Venia
by saxon-jesus
Summary: Trying to find forgiveness and resolution both Lavi and Yuu must find a way to mend broken bonds as they fight to stay alive during the Spanish American War. Sequel to Mea Culpa written for Sektix2 on LJ. Violence sex,torture,angst but less than Mea Culpa
1. Part 1

**********Please note that due to policy changes, we have had to edit and/or omit parts of this story. If you would like to read it in full and without changes, please find them on our LJ or on our aff account.**

**Venia**

_Part 1:_

_Happiness. That was not something Lavi had ever hoped to feel again. But the glowing warmth in his chest as he looked down at the man beneath him reminded him that yes, he could be happy again. Yuu gazed up with trust-and a good portion of lust-in his eyes and pressed closer. The redhead smiled and pressed back. An endearing noise halfway between a squeak and a moan made the perilously choked journey from Yuu's clenched jaw, signifying the man to be very, very close. The sweat between their bodies eased the hot friction, but not enough, never enough, because _dear God_, Lavi had missed this too much._

_After so many years of being apart, of feeling as if nothing could heal the ache, forgiveness was finally, hopefully, within his grasp._

Lavi looked down at the letter, not exactly pleased with its contents. "'Dear Bookman,'" he read out loud, mostly for Yuu's benefit. The man was sitting next to him and eyeing him with a certain degree of suspiciousness. He deserved it; after all he had done to Yuu, he felt he deserved a lot more distrust than the man was showing. In the two months since their happy reunion (not that the redhead would ever let his lover know that was what he was calling it), it had become very apparent that their relationship needed rebuilding.

To put it simply, Yuu didn't trust him at all. Every time Lavi left the room, an almost panicked expression would show through the older man's widening eyes. His breathing would inevitably pick up, and sometimes-rarely ever-he'd make an almost inaudible _whine_ that sounded a little bit like that of a dog missing its master. Of course, Lavi never mentioned that, as that would be both cruel and atrocious behavior, especially as the older man probably didn't even realize he was doing it. It would be an affront to his pride, for one. It would also rip their relationship into tatters-not that it already wasn't. It was more like it would be the finishing blow, the final strike in a long line of sins.

The worst part was that Lavi had no idea how to properly atone. Every time he tried to show Yuu he wouldn't leave, it seemed to backfire. Already, the dark-haired man's older sister wasn't fond of him, but that was mostly because he'd accidentally dropped her daughter. Not exactly the best move for him to make when he was trying to prove how trustworthy he was.

A snap of fingers in front of his eyes-one blind, one not-brought Lavi back. "Keep going, you idiot." Yuu's cross voice sounded as impatient and intolerant as ever, so the redhead decided not to push his frail luck and continue on.

"'You have hereby been summoned to active duty in Cuba. You will take the next two days to pack up your belongings and reach the Port of London. The boat you will be taking will bring you across the Atlantic Ocean to the Port of Boston. From there, you will be expected to wait four days until you depart on the small schooner _Ulysses_. The schooner will take you as far as the Florida Keys. You will have to continue the journey to Cuba on your own, taking whichever route you think will give you the most abundant of information. You will then meet with Captain Marsain in Havana Harbor at El Carrao and relieve the Bookman on duty.'" Lavi paused for a minute, but Yuu still seemed to think there was more. "There's no signature." At that, the dark-haired man looked up and nodded.

"I'm coming too."

The Bookman had known that would be the first thing out of his lover's mouth, so he simply nodded in return. "We'll have to find some kind of role for you. You're too old to be my apprentice, so what skills do you have...?" He trailed off, listing possibilities in his head. He'd gotten used to thinking in such a manner, having no one with him for so long. Yuu couldn't be his bodyguard, as he was expected to be able to take care of himself. He supposed he could enroll his lover in the army company he would be joining, but that would be putting too much at risk. Besides, Yuu had seen far too much of battle to have it forced on him again. He was a formidable swordsman, but he knew next to nothing about guns or archery, let alone riding horses. As Exorcists, they'd always ridden on trains or in carriages. But other than those two modes of transportation, they had only proceeded on foot. So there was no way that the older man could fit into an army, not with such little training. Lavi supposed he could teach him about guns-he'd have to if he expected the man to survive at all-but horsemanship, especially in a battle context, was not something that could be learned in the few days they wouldn't be spending at sea.

Obviously, Yuu being his whore was out of the question. Just suggesting that one to his lover would hurt whatever was left of their relationship, and Lavi didn't particularly like the idea anyway. That left two more positions open. Yuu would never agree to be a servant. Of course, few Bookmen carted around servants anymore. Not since the technological boom. No, servants were objects of the past. By process of elimination, that left one option. Lavi doubted Yuu would like this one either, but he could at least broach the subject with more ease than he could any of the others.

"So Yuu," he began, and his lover perked up a little, obviously having watched the gears turning in his head, "how good are you at writing?"

"Writing?" Yuu asked, blinking. Apparently, he hadn't been expecting a question like that.

"Yes," Lavi insisted. "You see, some Bookmen carry scribes with them so that they don't have to waste their time translating their notes into the language used in the Hall of Record."

"The Hall of Record?" Dark eyebrows flattened quizzically over gray eyes.

"It's the Bookmen's library. All information that we gather is eventually brought over to the Hall of Record, where it is categorized and stored by specialized librarians. They're called Recordkeepers, unoriginally. Recordkeepers begin as scribes, where they learn the secret language that they then use later to organize the logs. Scribes either work in the Hall of Record itself or follow the Bookmen into extremely dangerous warzones. If they are young enough, they sometimes become apprentices, but that's very rare. Usually, they just die. But the language of the Bookmen isn't hard to learn, and it would be great to have someone who could translate all my logs for me." Lavi finished his tangent with what he hoped was a winning smile and looked over at his lover, who surprised him by affecting a contemplative air.

"You're asking me... to be your scribe." His voice was flat, sardonic.

"Yes."

"I would be... useful to you." Once again, his question was stated like a fact. Lavi nodded.

"Yes."

"Let me say good-bye to my sister, then."

* * *

To say that the Port of London was busy would be like calling the Order unethical. The word just didn't do the place justice. Masses upon masses of people sardined across the creaking docks. Large, muscled seamen hauled ropes, occasionally swearing at others who cut them off from their goal. Lavi was a bit paranoid in crowds-still, after five years without Akuma, he was afraid of the threat they had once inflicted. It wasn't something someone got over, even five years gone.

Their ship was not hard to miss, even smashed among the larger cargo carriers. She was a mid-sized vessel, her smokestacks puffing in preparation for what could be a treacherous journey. She was stately, if a little dirty from the coal residue that was thick in the air. Her name was scrawled somewhat elegantly on her hull, the _Lady Calliope_, just as the ticket that had been mailed with the message he had received had stated. With the crowd so dense, Lavi felt it was alright to shoot his hand a few inches to the side, where it met and held Yuu's. In a flash, he'd let go, but the sentiment remained where his hand could not.

With a sidelong glance, the redhead was able to catch his lover's nod of acknowledgment. Deep in the atrophied chasm of his chest, his heart smoldered. Perhaps something of their old relationship still had the hope of being restored. Still, it was best not to dwell on that, not while he had a potentially dangerous mission lying wide open ahead of him. Him and Yuu.

He'd explained to the Japanese man that this trip across the Atlantic would not be a restful one. Most scribes had a lifetime to learn what Yuu would have to cram into his brain in only fifteen days. The language used in the Hall of Record was not spoken; it had no set pronunciation. But it was very complicated, had an entire complex system of grammar, and contained a completely different alphabet than any used across the globe. And it had to look _natural_, like the man had spent his entire life learning it. He also had to learn the customs of the Bookmen so that he did not seem surprised by any of their practices, some of which were strange and others of which were downright odd.

"Hurry up, idiot," barked Yuu from a few feet ahead. The redhead caught himself twitch in surprise. He knew his concentration was severely depleted around his lover, but this was a bit excessive. Taking a calming breath, he tried to relax and _see_. Beside him was a little boy kicking around a small pebble. And beside him, even more activity prevailed. Off in the corner, some type of shady deal was being completed-a small, quivering man placed a palm-sized sack into the gnarled hands of an overly-dressed woman. Lavi's intuition told him that the man was unhappy at home.

Not wanting to waste his talents on unworthy targets, Lavi sped up until he was beside the Japanese man.

"I am hurrying!" He insisted, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"_Che_, you walk like the _moyashi_," Yuu groused.

"You wound me."

"Shut up and keep walking. I know it's difficult for you to do both at once."

A little prickle of annoyance poked at Lavi's heart, but he ignored it. He deserved this treatment-he deserved worse.

Boarding the ship was easy enough, and so was descending deep into the bowels of the ship to the third class compartments that had been so kindly paid for by his organization. It was lucky that they didn't have to share their compartment room with any others, lest suspicion be raised and questions asked. Regardless, it was a little box of a room with barely any space to move, let alone sleep. There was not much in the way of furniture, save for a solitary dresser, a dilapidated writing desk, and four hooks, two on either side of the wall, upon which hung two precarious and worn hammocks.

"Well, at least I get a bed this time," Lavi muttered aloud, glad for small miracles. The other times he'd crossed oceans, his fare had not always covered a place to sleep. Once he'd had to run messages for the crew just to be allowed aboard. That trip, he'd slept on a coil of rope. After some time, even that small grace had been taken from him, but in his good luck, he'd found the tiny cabin used to do the crew's laundry and had nestled among the dirty dishrags.

Yuu grunted but remained otherwise silent.

Patting the weathered wood of the desk, Lavi tested for weak craftsmanship. Finding none, he set to work unloading books from his chest. Their luggage had already been brought to the room, as they had stowed it aboard the night prior.

"Okay, then, Yuu," the redhead began, "it's time for you to learn. You up to it?"

With a grunt and a nod, Lavi's new scribe sat on a corner of his own chest, looking determined. It was kind of a cute face, Lavi thought, if you took time to really appreciate it. And even though he wasn't supposed to, he still could not help but gape sometimes. Dark eyebrows furrowed, deep eyes narrowed, mouth set in a grim line, Yuu looked concentrated, much like he did when practicing a new sword technique. Lavi had seen this face many times while they'd been together at the Order, but now he appreciated it ten times more. Believing someone to be dead went a great way in that regard. There were times when Lavi actually couldn't get himself to _stop_ staring. Usually those were late at night, though.

"Alright. We'll begin with the alphabet. It's nothing like Japanese _or_ English, so grab a pencil; you're going to be writing a lot-what do you _mean_, no one taught you to write?"

Lavi sighed. The endeavor might be more hopeless than he'd first envisioned.

"I may not have been taught to write, but that doesn't mean I _can't_," the dark-haired man hissed, holding the freshly-sharpened pencil threateningly. Lavi cringed away from it, his face showing the horror that just weeks before, he'd been too afraid to let slip.

"Of course, of course," he replied, raising his hands in surrender. "But that doesn't mean you don't need to learn the new alphabet. C'mon, it'll be fun-like a game!" He smiled broadly, but when he took in his lover's appearance, all he saw was a snarl.

"Take this seriously, _baka usagi._"

Braving the terrifying Yuu-chan monster, Lavi reached forward and stilled the other man's hands. Then, using his forward momentum, he placed a soft peck on Yuu's cheek.

"I _am_ taking this seriously." There was a pregnant pause as the Japanese man considered this. "But really, if you think of it as a game, you may learn quicker."

"Unlike _you_," Yuu began coldly, "I learn well from discipline alone."

"You suck at languages, don't you?" Lavi asked quietly.

Yuu fumed inwardly, Lavi could see that through his eyes, but the man was unable to say anything. It was probably true. While he could speak several languages, probably only the first had come easily to him.

* * *

"Listen, I'm sure your fine motor skills are perfectly adept, so let's start with the alphabet." Lavi leaned forward and kissed his lover. He got a scowl in response, but his chest felt rather buoyant as he began instructing the other man.

In the two weeks that passed, the men barely left their room, emerging only to dump their chamberpots and to eat. Most of the other third class voyagers left them alone, and the second and first class travelers were more than willing to ignore their very existence. There were times when Lavi saw Yuu bristling at this (he was probably used to the utmost respect that came with being an Exorcist), but he'd ushered the man away immediately. Being a Bookman usually meant keeping a low head, especially when traveling across a potentially deadly medium.

While their boring days passed, Lavi taught Yuu everything he could, and though the other man had trouble constructing each character at first, he'd come a long way. Yuu still had trouble with the less-used letters, but he was growing to learn them very quickly. Already, he'd finished up the first three lessons of the grammar guidebook entrusted to Lavi by the Bookmen and was working diligently on the fourth. Never before had Lavi seen the other man so intensely concentrated-not even when practicing swordplay or when meditating. His brow was cast in an immutable furrow, his eyes forever flowing between the book and the leather-bound notebook he was scrawling in. If it was possible, his fingers were stained a darker black than Lavi's had ever achieved.

A deep bellow of a horn called their approach to Boston Harbor, which seemed to split the ends of Yuu's long black hair. Ink spilled everywhere, causing Lavi to giggle, but he choked it back as he approached the Japanese man.

"Let me help," he said softly, dearly hoping that the amused smile couldn't be heard in his voice. With quick movements, he rescued the textbook from the dark lagoon the desk had become and sopped up the mess. "I've done that a million times."

Yuu's body was very close and very warm, and in a moment, a second set of hands was aiding his attempt not to get charged with property damage. Lavi stopped moving. He wasn't supposed to feel anything, especially not now, but his face was burning, his arms were trembling, and he very much wanted time to stand still for a moment. When Yuu stood up straight, Lavi wrapped his arms around the man's waist and nuzzled into the back of his neck. Yuu had never grown taller than him (a point of frustration for the Japanese man and a point of endless amusement for Lavi). Brushing aside the hair in his way, he leaned in to kiss the spot his forehead had just vacated. Yuu shuddered but leaned back.

They stood there for a moment, with Lavi tilting his head every once in a while to kiss around Yuu's neck. He never went further, never knew if he had permission to do so, but they stayed still until another loud, echoing blast from the horn announced that they'd made port.

By that time, of course, ink had dripped all over the floor.

They left in a great hurry, trying to avoid the extra fine. Carrying their chests behind them, the two men edged casually into the small mob of disembarking First and Second Class people. Once down the gangway, they marched into Boston with the authority of two proud Exorcists on a mission.

"Just like old times, huh, Yuu?" Lavi said, smiling.

"_Che_. Only _you_ would think that," Yuu replied, but the redhead saw that the grumpy frown was as fake as any emotion Lavi had once affected. Once on the dock, the two quickly made their way to the main street, hoping to find a nearby inn. As luck would have it, there were three immediately in sight. One looked rather rundown, and it was that one that Lavi pointed out to his companion.

"And you want to go in there _why_?" The Japanese man replied, eying the sign with a haughty expression. Patting the man on the shoulder, Lavi smiled.

"The most interesting stories will be there, Yuu, and we have a budget to keep. Bookmen don't exactly make much money-the organization gives you a small allowance for food and shelter, but when I say small, I mean nearly non-existent. So in addition to actually getting closer to the truth, we also get the added luxury of lumpy mattresses and poor meals." He patted Yuu one more time and then pushed open the door to the small inn. A bell rang as he entered, and within moments, a skeletally thin woman was greeting him.

She was maybe a few years younger than the two travelers, perhaps around eighteen or twenty, but when she spoke, she sounded even younger.

"Welcome! What can I do for you?" She asked, gesturing with spindly fingers to both the redhead and his lover.

"Do you have any rooms available?" Lavi asked, lowering his voice in pitch so that he sounded a bit gruff, menacing. He shifted his balance so that he walked a bit more like a sailor, with a lot more swagger and a lot less efficiency.

His guise paid off, for the young woman smiled coyly at him and responded in the positive.

"How about a room with two beds?" He specified, and the hostess just nodded emphatically. "Then I'll take that for the next three nights, along with meals, if that's alright." The hostess smiled and attempted a curtsy (which didn't really work out; it was obvious she'd never been schooled in manners) before running off to a much dumpier woman with unruly hair and a fierce scowl.

They were taken to the second floor and shown their room. It was sparse and empty, save for the two beds and a single nightstand between them. The curtains that hung from the tiny window were tattered and yellowed. There was a hole in the wall that joined theirs to the adjacent room where light and sound slowly filtered through. Nothing much was to be heard, although Lavi thought he could hear the faint but distinctive timbre of a penny whistle. More prevalent were the feet pounding on the floorboards enough to make them squeak. Next to him, Yuu grimaced but remained silent. They'd both been in worse conditions, and neither of them was in a high enough position to complain anymore. Setting their bags and chests down, they both sighed and looked at one another.

"Let's move the beds together," Lavi suggested. Yuu's grimace turned into something that might have been a smile, and he helped rearrange the furniture. Come morning, they'd have to return the beds to normal, but for now, they could let them be.

They kissed briefly, tenderly, and then Yuu went down to grab them both dinner. Once he'd returned, Lavi reached into his bag and produced a wedge ("to keep the idiots out," he explained, and Yuu told him that it didn't work, seeing as the redhead was still in the room). Though it was only early evening, after they ate, they were both too exhausted from traveling to do much more than huddle up together under the covers and pass out.

* * *

The next morning passed in peaceful, non-rocking bliss, though for the first few moments before he returned to full awareness, Yuu felt as though he was still on the damned seacraft and ready to vomit at the next large wave to sway the boat. He'd gotten over seasickness long ago, so it was only in his dreams that the rocking sensation turned into real nausea. After fastidiously removing himself from their den of blankets (damned Bookman, hogging them all), he moved swiftly across to do the necessaries. Ignoring the dim rumbling in his gut, he returned to the bed, where he just as meticulously reincorporated himself into the mess and Bookman's arms. Though he tried to remain stoic outwardly (not that anyone would be able to see his expression anyway), inwardly he was just a little satisfied. He had Lavi back. They were traveling together. No, he didn't trust the man, not after all the shit he'd put him through, but he knew that ignoring the feelings wouldn't make them go away. It was weird, he reflected as he sank further back into Bookman's warm chest, not trusting the person he loved.

Their previous relationship was broken, smashed to tatters. But that didn't mean it couldn't be rebuilt. Trust was something Lavi-Bookman-whatever could regain... if he didn't do anything stupid again. Their feelings were currently acting like a bridge, and though earlier mistakes had blown massive holes into it, destroying trust and faith and adding a good deal of bitterness, the structure had not fallen, leaving a framework for them to repair. In time, perhaps it could even become better.

Sighing, he decided he'd done enough emotional examination and prodded the redhead awake.

"Muskets don't wheeze," the man declared, springing back into awareness and off the mattress in one go. A finger pointed to the wooden beams of the ceiling while the sheets fell down around his feet. For a moment, Yuu smirked, as he thought it would be amusing if Lavi would trip and fall flat on on his face. Instead, he swayed mightily on the spot before finding his center of balance.

"Idiot," he muttered, walking over to the silly rabbit and ruffling his hair affectionately, scowling all the while, lest the idiot forget that Yuu was still angry at him. Just a little.

"What time is it?" Lavi said blearily. He looked ragged, like a worn-out doll from a six-year-old's toy chest, like he'd been through too much with too few repairs.

"It's a quarter past seven," Yuu replied, sounding a little stiff, even to his own ears. Cautiously, he wrapped an arm around Lavi's waist. He didn't miss the pleased smile that wormed its way onto the other man's face.

"Then it's time to get going. You stay here and study the language and I'll go down and see what I can learn about the conflict in Cuba." Lavi made an odd little oozing turn as he made for his traveling trunk and removed his clothes for the day, but the Japanese man didn't comment on it. He'd seen Lavi during many mornings, and he knew that it was best to just let the rabbit bumble his way into wakefulness. It was... endearing, perhaps, to watch him wobble. He nodded sharply, feeling determined to tackle yet another lesson on the bizarre grammar of the Bookman's language.

Eventually, the angry bellows of his hollow stomach reached a pitch and frequency that even Kanda Yuu could not ignore, and he made his way down the screeching wooden steps and into the tavern that constituted the first floor.

The bar area was surprisingly crowded, so looking for an unoccupied table was more of a challenge than he had anticipated. It was loud, too, not as boisterous as the cafeteria at the Order would get on occasion, but still loud. The townspeople and the sailors who had made port were riled up about something inconsequential.

"Yeah, well, it's just disgustin' how those Spaniards are trying to keep those Cubans all under their control. I think we should definitely send more of our men over there to help them rebels out. It's just plain _American_. Hell, we gotta get them back for the _Maine_!" There was a stocky, bearded man in the corner, surrounded by a large group of almost-drunkards. The man was old and had spent many obviously trying years out at sea and had earned the respect of the men hanging on his every word like little puppies.

Yuu sat at his mercifully empty table and watched in amusement as the over-zealous patriots shouted back and forth with each other, every new voice trying to out-"American" the last. It was all pointless in Yuu's opinion. As he saw it, war was hell, no matter what side-or island-you were on, and bystanders had no room to have opinions on things that they would never see or be affected by directly. It made his blood boil at how these people could just blindly accept the slogans and war-mongering that they were fed through their newspapers. It didn't take a genius-or a Bookman-to see that.

"Well, I heard that Mr. Roosevelt was gonna take his boys over there and finish the Spaniards off for good!" Another voice popped in to join the now raucous noise.

"Yeah! Remember the _Maine_, to Hell with Spain! We can't let them imperial bastards stop the spread of Freedom!" Those words were met with another round of cheers. Everyone, it seemed, was getting into the fervor. In the midst of the patriotic frenzy, Yuu's food had gone cold. Thinking he had heard enough, the Japanese man headed back upstairs to finish studying.

Hours later, Lavi returned, looking more worn than he had when he'd left. His face was pallid and both his eyes drooped. Each step was more of a wavering shuffle, resulting in a scraping, dragging sound that filled the room quite annoyingly. Seeing as it was well past midnight, Yuu understood why Lavi might be so tired, but this was a little over the top, even for the rabbit. Without want, worry slipped easily into his chest, leaving him with a weighted, uncomfortable feeling. His own steps sounded muted in comparison to Bookman's, but they were still audible in the exhausted silence of the room.

Patting Bookman on the head, Yuu led the other man to the bed, removing his shoes and kissing his hand when it came to the Japanese man's cheek. Though he was upset, there was still an underlying tenderness that he could not eschew from his heart. Gently pushing Lavi into a laying position, he leaned forward himself and came to rest parallel to the redhead.

"Are you alright?" He finally asked, speaking quietly in case Lavi had a headache. From the way the other man flinched and screwed his eyes, he was correct in his assumption. He turned so that he was lying facing Lavi, and with a light, brushing pressure, he began to knead away what tension he could.

"No," Lavi groaned, turning and sliding further down the bed in a seemingly instinctive manner. The movement merited a better angle for Yuu's fingers, which in turn made his massage more soothing.

"How bad was your day?" The Japanese man asked after several minutes, during which he had moved his fingers from Lavi's forehead and down to his outrageously tense neck. The redhead seemed to revive somewhat with each passing moment, but he still seemed deflated somehow. Bookman didn't answer his question for a long while, seeming content to just let it hang in the air like a forgotten kettle left over a waning fire.

"Americans are jackasses," Lavi finally uttered, and he sounded so thoroughly defeated and exhausted that Yuu decided to take pity on him.

He kissed the other man's forehead, trailing down the path his hands had just taken, down to his neck and then to his shoulders and collarbone. Clinging, needy hands pulled his face upward so that he was nose-to-nose with Bookman, and suddenly it seemed very important that they should kiss. From the glint in Lavi's one working eye, he shared the sentiment wholeheartedly.

It was soft, soft like the embrace of a fluffy towel after a particularly warm bath, or like the smooth glide of Mugen into its hilt. But it was good, just like the clean feeling after that same trip to the baths, just like the satisfaction of knowing that each time he sheathed Mugen, he grew stronger.

And he was still strong. He may have softened over the years, but he was still capable of being deadly.

So he kissed back. Long and hard and maybe a little forceful, but it certainly perked Lavi up.

* * *

The schooner, Lavi reflected, was tiny. Fast, yes, but in comparison to the great barge they'd traveled to Boston with, it was absolutely minuscule. It had only two masts, fore and aft, whereas many of the other vessels in the harbor had many, many more. Having traveled by boat many times, Lavi knew that their little schooner was average for its type, but he still couldn't help but think that perhaps it would have been better to take a larger ship. The captain had told him they were staying close to shore, though, so he supposed that perhaps the Bookmen had known what they were doing after all.

The rocking motion was a bit excessive. Lavi glanced to his left and caught Yuu looking distinctly green. The schooner was lower to the waves, which caused a more lilting pace for the small vessel. The redhead, too, was getting nauseous, if he was honest with himself. He took a deep breath of the salty air and turned from the rail. He didn't want to egg on his impulse to purge.

The small vessel was the perfect environment for picking up all sorts of interesting rumors from the sailors and from the small number of passengers aboard. But by the middle of their second day, Lavi had already exhausted all interesenting bits of information, and one could only stare at the waves and off into space for so long before it became impossible to sit still.

And Yuu was no fun, seeing as he actually still had work to do, and most of that work required hard concentration, so when he was finally finished, his brain was so frazzled that he wanted to do nothing but lie down and sleep it off. Shrugging and standing so that he could stretch his sore muscles, Lavi decided he would go down below deck and check on the Japanese man's progress.

As he had been for the past few weeks, Yuu sat at a small oak desk that had been so kindly provided in their room, scribbling away at another difficult translation. It didn't look like the dark-haired man had noticed his entrance. That was good. Cautiously, he stepped around to the other side of the desk, placing himself behind the other man. As a Bookman, he had to know this language as well, for many times he was required to look information up in the archives. Watching Yuu form the characters that made up a bizarre (yet grammatically correct) sentence was perhaps too alluring, and once again, Lavi had trouble sitting still.

He wanted to commit this scene to memory, let it soak in so deeply into his brain that nothing could stop him from remembering the straining movements of Yuu's shoulders as he wrote. But it was like his mind couldn't keep focused on one thing at a time. His eyes kept jumping from the ceiling and the peculiar hole that seemed to peer right out onto the deck to the tiny pebble the was rolling in time with the ships pitching, or to that loose strand of hair Yuu would repeatedly push out of the way as he worked. It was infuriating.

Out of desperation, the redhead tried one of the variety of methods that had always kept his fidgeting at bay. First, he tried tapping his foot, but that was loud and only increased his desire to move around. When Yuu made an angry snort, he tried drumming a tune with his fingers, but that resulted in a loud curse as the wood had splintered slightly from wear and had decided to lodge one of its grains under his fingernail. Finally, with a great, heaving sigh, he got up and threw himself into his hammock. The only problem was that the hooks from which the fabric was slung squeaked with each movement.

Looking over to the desk, it was obvious that Yuu was more than annoyed by his intrusion and noise. Lavi could see the tension radiating from his shoulders like tiny waves of heat. The redhead managed to still the squeaking just in the nick of time. He breathed a tiny sigh of relief as the dark-haired began to move again, the scratching sound of his pen against the paper filling the room.

While his own relationship with Yuu was important, it wasn't the only thing he had to be worried about, he thought. Putting his foot on the ground to still any instinctive movement, he thought of Cuba and the dangers that would most likely stare them straight in the face the second they were off the boat. Naturally, war was dangerous, though Yuu had proven that he could handle those hazards time and again. Lavi, too, was adept at avoiding fire-you had to be in order to survive as an Exorcist. His entire life, he'd trained in the art of not getting killed. Back when he was little, Bookman had told him there were only two important things in the world: history in the making and staying alive to see it.

The Bookmen did not live just to record wars. Actually, they usually wrote down economic conditions and studied bizarre creatures. Sparingly few were sent out into war zones, and those who did tended to be treated as heroes when they returned. Lavi patted the ground almost tenderly as he remembered his first greeting back at the Bookmen's Headquarters.

It was nothing like the Order. Not cheerful, not homely. Just... empty, even though it was full. The lights didn't glow with warmth; any luminosity it emitted was cold, like the gloom of an old dungeon. Lavi had felt trapped in the place, though no bars were to be found. It had more to do with the feeling that inside, he could never be let free. All emotions and expressions were locked firmly inside his chest, never to be readmitted to the world. With the conspicuous lack of laughter, Headquarters seemed _dry_ and maybe a little lonely. Each step echoed more than it should have, and no discussion took place above a raised whisper.

The feeling was grave. Nothing like the Order's Headquarters had been. The Order, while it had its flaws, had been lively and welcoming. In the Bookman Headquarters, there was nothing but cold and fear. All the richness of living had been leeched away, but there was no salt to stopper the drain.

The scratching had stopped. It was then that Lavi realized that as he had been deep in thought, his body had betrayed him and he had been slowly and repetitively rocking back and forth. He attempted to still his movements as fast as he could, but in his haste, he over-corrected and went tumbling onto the floor, the fabric having been ripped off of the hooks.

Yuu sighed, and Lavi heard him set down his pen and maneuver his chair so that he was facing the mess on the floor.

"_Stop_," the man hissed, standing up and stalking over. The redhead blinked in confusion. Yuu's jaw was rigid, his eyebrows tense and knit together. His hair dangled downward like great obsidian stalactites, rocking back and forth as the Japanese man shook. But what was most shocking was the instinctive bid Yuu's hands were making for his left hip, on which his scabbard usually hung.

Why was Yuu so mad?

Lavi gaped, lips flapping like a stunned fish.

"Wh-what did I do?" He asked, and his head throbbed as he finally produced a sound.

The dangerous blaze in Yuu's eyes flashed in threat, as if silently imploring Lavi to stop being a dense idiot.

"I didn't mean to fall!" He shouted in apology. The noise made his head ache.

"It's your very presence, idiot! You just keep... _moving_, and it's distracting as all hell. I'm supposed to be _helping_ you, but that's hard to do when you can't keep your damned body still!" Yuu panted heavily for a moment. His voice, if it was possible, could have flattened Lavi's hair to the floor. As it was, the volume had formed white-hot spots across his vision. His head _hurt_.

"I was being quiet," Lavi insisted in a mumble, and looked away meekly.

"You were being loud as-FUCK!" Yuu had pounded his hand into the hook (somehow still clinging to the wall) that had once held Lavi's hammock. He'd probably tried to hit the wall for emphasis, but that endeavor obviously hadn't gone smoothly.

"Here." He got up, or at least tried to, but apparently attempting to help his lover as he nursed his hand didn't help the situation very much.

Yuu sat back down in his chair, nursing a slightly punctured appendage and scowling as Lavi tried to apologize. It didn't work. The dark-haired man just shook his head and glared until the redhead stopped spluttering like the engine of an automobile.

"Just... leave the room. I don't need you hovering and... being _you_."

"And what's wrong with that?" Lavi exclaimed, apology forgotten.

Yuu gave him a look that could possibly pass for incredulity, though perhaps there was more meaning beneath it.

"What's wrong with being me?" The redhead repeated.

"It's infuriating!"

"So you're saying I infuriate you?"

"_Yes_."

"Fine, I'll go, then," Lavi said tightly, turning on his heel and walking swiftly from the hold. He heard a sigh follow him out just before he closed the door.

* * *

A/N: Hey, guys! Miss us? Yeah, we missed us too. But hey! We've finally made a posting deadline. So this is both for sekitx2 and Lavi's birthday. Happy birthday, Lavi. :) And congrats, sekitx2, for winning the contest we had last summer. Some of you may wonder why we haven't updated HtSaL in a while. Well, it's because we got a bit stuck/bored on it. So we decided to do Venia (which is "fogiveness" in Latin) in the meantime, and we realized that we could do it for Lavi's b-day. Don't worry, we haven't abandoned it. In other news, our RL has been a bit hectic this summer, culminating in much drama and in us dating.

El Carrao = The Limpkin. Oooooh, points for originality! XPPP The limpkin, for those uneducated souls among our readers, is a bird that is indigenous to Cuba. It's kinda cute. Look it up on wiki.


	2. Part 2

******Please note that due to policy changes, we have had to edit and/or omit parts of this story. If you would like to read it in full and without changes, please find them on our LJ or on our aff account.**

_Part 2:_

Things remained awkward between them for the remainder of the voyage. After Lavi had stormed out like a whining toddler who hadn't gotten his way, Yuu had tried to return to his work, but he had soon found his mind too roiled up to make any further headway. With them one hammock short, Yuu had thought that he'd see the other man again in a few hours. The fight had been stupid, and though he thought he was right to be peeved, he wasn't going to hold a grudge for the loss of an afternoon's work. Lavi had consistently robbed him of such time back in the Order, it was just that it was essential that Yuu learn quickly, especially since he was doing this as a favor to the idiot rabbit.

He was thinking of the man as a rabbit. That meant he was no longer angry.

But Lavi hadn't returned that evening, and by the next, he'd gotten a new hammock and remained in stony, infantile silence as they prepared for bed. This behavior continued until they'd gone down the gangway at Port of Key West, at which point the anger and frustration was back, simply because Lavi could not get over a petty fight that had not meant anything at all.

Yuu stewed as he followed Lavi about the port, passing by Cubans and Americans alike as they set out on their endeavor to get to Cuba before nightfall. He barely paid attention as his supposed lover talked up anyone with a uniform for information on traveling. Eventually, he prodded Yuu up a small gangway and into an even tinier schooner with barely enough room for its two minute masts. It hardly looked sea-worthy.

"You're trying to kill me, aren't you?" He mumbled in question to Lavi. He wasn't expecting an answer, but the redhead regarded him with a shocked expression and shook his head emphatically.

"_No_," the rabbit insisted, sounding horrified. It was as if he had taken Yuu's comment seriously. In an attempt to gloss over the miscommunication, the Japanese man rolled his eyes. He didn't scoff, though the notion was clearly stated on his face, he thought. But sadly, Lavi didn't seem to understand and moved to the other side of the boat for the entirety of the voyage.

Dusk had begun to fall as they stepped onto the small, war-torn island, though from the port, it looked anything but. A large fortress stood forbodingly erect in relation to the rest of the city, which seemed to surge out from behind it. Each of the canons, glinting ominously in the orange-gold cast of the setting sun, left Yuu feeling very glad the Akuma had never accessed that level of fire power. Apparently, not even this amazing defensive beacon, most likely stolen from the Spanish when the Cubans had petitioned for independence, could kick its original owners out.

They disembarked and walked the dimming city streets. Yuu let Lavi lead, taking in their surroundings so that the other man could concentrate on where they were going. He noticed that while the first few rows of houses and buildings showed signs of severe fire damage-some of them were seared to a crispy, hollow shell of a house, while others were merely rubble and broken glass. As they moved further into the city, though, the quality of living seemed to improve. A few blocks away from the port, far enough so that the water could not be seen, the houses began to look as untouched as the fortress, as if spared by some heavenly hand from the horrors that the outer buildings-and perhaps their inhabitants-had not survived. The city was still run-down as all hell, though, Yuu thought with a sadistic smirk.

The bar in which they were supposed to meet this Captain Marsain was shady, even by shady bar standards. It was more like a shed with chickens outside and was missing half its roof. Actually, that was exactly what it was. But Lavi marched right on in as if he had been there a thousand times before. The one good thing about being around a Bookman was that they always knew the language, so it was always safer to be around one in a country where you could be killed for speaking anything other than the inhabitants' native tongue.

It wasn't difficult to spot the person they were looking for. He stood out-and up-because he was standing on the lone table shouting in very clear and extremely crude English. He had the entire place, which consisted of about ten people, in a state of uproarious enjoyment. Captain Marsain was all of five-foot-nine, lean, and on the surface appeared to be someone who would not be able to hold a crowd's attention for longer than a few seconds. But when he spoke, as was made abundantly clear by the shouts and cat-calls of the ten men, it was obvious that he knew what he was doing and how to get others to follow him.

It made Yuu at least a little hopeful about surviving whatever was going to be thrown their way.

The captain looked over as the door's bell rung over their heads. He smiled companionably and jumped roughly down from the table. His men parted like the red sea to let him through. The man didn't swagger, but each _click_ of his boots' heels on the wooden floor rang with authority and confidence. His posture was straighter than Yuu could ever hope to accomplish.

"What can I do you for, gentlemen?" He asked, giving the two travelers a broad grin. Lavi returned the expression with an intense fervor Yuu had only seen in the few years that he'd actually been "Lavi," back when Bookman's gaze was cast upon everything the redhead did. It was hard to believe it was so long ago, and yet here they were, ten years later, in a sad excuse for a tavern with drunken men and an overabundance of chickens.

"I believe I'm here to relieve that person in the corner," Lavi replied, offering his hand, which the captain shook vigorously. Yuu looked over and found an eleventh person, this one female, faded away into the shadows of the dimly-lit corner. She was old, but her eyes were sharp, sawing through the crowd and latching onto the bustle of activity at the door. There was no doubting that calculating expression.

They'd found their Bookman.

Or Bookwoman? Yuu never really cared to ask, as the issue was trivial, and even now, he really didn't give enough of a shit to find out. He was here as a scribe and nothing else.

"Ah," Captain Marsain said. His smile flickered briefly. The Japanese man knew immediately that the man's expression was fake, and if he knew Lavi well enough, the redhead did too. "Well, she's been expecting you for some time now."

"I do apologize for the late hour, but it was astoundingly... difficult to find safe passage here." Lavi excused himself and went to talk to the middle-aged woman in the corner.

"And you? You're not as skinny and helpless as that schmuck over there." At this, he gestured to Lavi. "Unlike him, you'll probably last at least a day." Captain Marsain offered his hand. Yuu took it and shook once, very firmly.

"I'm his scribe." He couldn't help but act a little cold toward the man, even if he and Lavi were currently fighting. If that was what being ignored was called these days.

The captain laughed, his hair falling behind him as he whipped his head back in amusement. He looked back to Yuu and wiped a tear from his eye. "A scribe? You don't look like the scholarly sort at all!"

Perhaps it was a mistake, but Yuu did not really remember doing it anyway. Whatever. All that mattered was that his grip was steady, his feet were planted, and the tip of Mugen lay exactly halfway between the captain's eyes. Shiny boots and swotty uniform or not, he would not take that insult to his honor. Yeah, Lavi deserved to be brought down a few notches-he would have smirked at that had he not been concentrating so hard on holding his position-but he did not. Not after all the shit he'd been through in his life. Not after being torn from his family, his sister. Not after being on the battlefield for eleven long, tiring years. This captain was young, maybe in his early thirties, though Yuu was sure that the man did not understand what constant peril truly was. Not if he and his men were letting loose like this. He knew perfectly well that he didn't look scholarly, Captain Marsain had not needed to point that out.

There was a multifaceted clicking sound of ten guns being cocked and aimed, but Yuu didn't care. He held his stance; his sword did not waver. He'd been in worse situations and come out without a scratch (granted, he had healed too quickly for them to show, but that was not the point he was trying to make to himself). Even though he no longer had that capability, he was confident in his ability not to get shot. He was very, _very_ skilled at dodging bullets.

"_I was an Exorcist, a member of the Dark Order. You will not patronize me,_" he hissed. Then he lowered his weapon. He'd made his point.

"It's alright," Captain Marsain informed his men, gesturing for them to relax and go back to their festivities. "We're all a bit jumpy."

But Yuu saw a glint of respect in the man's eye before he turned around to see what he could do about ridding the now off-duty Bookman from the tavern.

* * *

"You'll be staying with our company, then," Captain Marsain said, sounding less than pleased with the evening's proceedings.

"Yes," Lavi confirmed.

It was well after dark now, and the men had all retired to their tents out back. The tavern was now solely theirs, with the exception of the barmaid, who looked less than enthused that people were still hanging around so long after closing.

"Do you at least know how to use a gun?" The question was phrased very cynically, with a small touch of hopelessness.

With whip-like speed, Lavi reached out and pulled the captain's gun from its holster, spun it around his finger, cocking it in the same motion, and pointed it at Marsain's chest. For the first time since discovering their identities, the captain smiled fully. It was obvious he was pleased.

"And you both know how to handle yourselves in war?" He questioned further. Yuu rolled his eyes and nodded, a stony expression no doubt lurking on his face. Lavi responded aloud what Yuu's body language spoke, and the captain rubbed his hands together, his smile turning devious. "Excellent."

There was a brief silence as Captain Marsain finished off his last pint of beer. The glass was immediately swept away the moment it was set on the table. Yuu watched the barmaid's glare turn positively feral as she realized they were not leaving quite yet. Lavi played with the table's tarnished centerpiece. Bits of it looked as if it had been pecked away by chickens.

"Both of you will comport yourselves with the highest care. You will report here tomorrow at dawn."

There was no space for argument in the captain's tone.

"You will respond to me with 'yes, sir' or 'no, sir,'" he ordered, "and you will salute me like a proper American soldier. You will not talk back, nor will you get in the way. Put away that sword, man, you won't need it on the battlefield. Tomorrow, we will find you some guns. I assume you know how they work?" His eyebrow raised in expectation.

"Yes, sir!" Lavi barked, saluting, as Yuu did the same, replying in the negative.

The captain paused and took a look at Yuu. He didn't like bending to the whims of others, but he was not in a position where he could fight authority, so it was best to wait it out and see if he could find a way to flaunt Marsain's rule without being overtly insolent. He'd done the same with Komui and Tiedoll, so he was positive he could do it now.

"You will teach your _scribe_ the workings of handguns and rifles, you hear me, Bookman?" Marsain ordered. Something in the way he'd said "scribe" struck Yuu as odd, but he quickly discarded the notion, as it was probably unimportant to the mission at hand. Lavi's eyes narrowed for a split-second, which was a little more interesting, although the redhead said nothing on the subject.

"Yes, sir."

"Then you two are dismissed." The American man sat back in his chair, put his hands behind his head, and seemed to relax. The barmaid looked irate. Yuu had a nagging suspicion that the captain was doing all this just to annoy her.

They saluted and went out to find somewhere to spend the night. They found a nearby inn and soon made their way into their shared room. There were two beds; Yuu snagged the closer one. He was facing Lavi, who had already turned away. A prickle of annoyance ran up Yuu's spine.

"Lavi, stop ignoring me," he said quietly. There were other travelers, other customers in the rooms adjacent and across from their own, and he didn't wish to disturb them, especially with a matter so trivial in comparison to their mission.

"I'm trying not to annoy you. Isn't that what you want?" Lavi replied in the same downcast and childish tone he always did when he felt like he was in trouble.

"You kept telling me how important it was that I study and then when I do, you bother me. When you can't sit still, it's distracting."

"Oh."

"What do you _mean_, 'oh?'"

"I mean... 'oh.'"

"_Lavi_."

"What?" He sounded genuinely confused.

"You're such an idiot."

He made the sad, weepy eyes, the ones that he knew Yuu despised. He also knew-and Yuu knew he knew, which made it that much more angering-that they were the eyes the Japanese man couldn't refuse. He sighed, knowing full well that he couldn't fight himself. Lavi just looked too... pitiful. Yes, that was it. He had always felt a little bit like he'd had to take care of Lavi, and those eyes just made the man look so pitiful that it was impossible to not to cave.

"I guess... you could say... maybe... that perhaps I was a little... _harsh_." The words sounded so foreign on his tongue, but he forced them out, lest those eyes become wider and more pathetic. "I suppose I am... sorry." He mumbled the last word, looking away.

When no reaction was forthcoming, he chanced a glance out of the corner of his right eye. Lavi had dropped the expression and was blushing.

"I-I'm sorry, too," the redhead said, much louder than Yuu's own apology had been. Rolling his eyes, the dark-haired man walked over and pulled Lavi into his arms. He didn't always understand why he loved this idiot.

* * *

They met at dawn, just as they had been ordered. Captain Marsain was waiting, rather impatiently, for them on the street outside the tavern. They left the city quickly, continuing until the sun was already starting to fall through the thick forest that seemed like the perfect hiding place for an invading army.

Around dusk, they had entered into a clearing where a large series of tents were set up in neat military lines. The soldiers were busy at work, running drills, cooking, taking care of horses, practicing their marksmanship on nearby trees. It would have appeared chaotic to anyone who did not understand what was going on, but to Yuu it seemed as normal as picking on _Moyashi._

The Captain led them to a tent on the far side of the camp, indicating that that was where the old Bookman had slept. It was a bit larger than the other tents, but Lavi seemed displeased, mumbling something about not being able to store his logs properly.

"I'll expect you to be out for evening drills in a half hour," Captain Marsain said to Yuu as he left.

The dark-haired man sighed. It was going to be difficult keeping up with the trained soldiers. It had been far too long since the war, since he'd been in top form. Plus, it would take time away from his real mission. Eating quickly, he left Lavi to his record and ran to join the gathering soldiers.

They were as mismatched as the Exorcists once were. Some were tall, some so short it seemed as if puberty had left them behind. Some had beards, others didn't. Most were tanned, some were burned, and others were pasty-those ones had to be the newer recruits, Yuu reasoned. But above all, they were all soldiers in the same company, and that seemed to be a uniting feature among them all. When he went to stand among them, he was met with a few nods and a couple suspicious glances. He had been expecting that. He had never been to America, but he assumed that racism was just as blatant as it was in Europe, where he'd sometimes been ostracized for being Asian. He'd learned to ignore it, but the signs of discontent would always prickle at his temper.

"Attention!" A shout rang across the small field, and the soldiers on either side of Yuu snapped into a posture so straight and tall that it put trees to shame. One hand was firmly against their side, while the other held the butt of the standard-issue rifle. Yuu immediately mimicked this position and watched as a man in uniform approached them.

Major Samuel Brown's one distinctive feature was his immaculate mustache. It was sleek, black, and manicured, as if it was the only thing in the world that he cared for. He wasn't tall, but his demeanor sent him towering over the men in line, who lost their perfect posture within seconds of coming into contact with the man's withering glare. He walked down the formation, his boots shining, his steps assured.

"You all look pathetic. Chin up, Grant! You! Straighten that gun, I don't want no amateur pointing a rifle in my direction. Parsins, is that a beard or a bush? I expect clean-shaven or well-groomed, none of this half-assed bullshit. And you-" The man had come to a stop in front of Yuu, his piercing blue eyes were calculating, inspecting every inch of his new target, trying to find something to berate. Yuu held eye contact and didn't let his muscles relax a hairs; width. "-Where's your rifle?"

"Just arrived, wasn't issued one, sir." This man needed to be referred to with respect. He demanded it, required it. Yuu didn't want to undermine his authority in front of his troops. That would have been counterproductive. He didn't want trouble; he just wanted to survive.

"Jennings, go get this man a rifle!"

A trembling youth saluted and stepped out of line. He sprinted off to a large tent by the officers' quarters near the treeline. While he disappeared into the tent, the Major rounded in on the Japanese man once more.

"What is your name, soldier?" It was clear from the way he leaned forward, from the way he looked directly into Yuu's eyes, that he was trying to intimidate.

"Yuu Kanda, sir." The Japanese man stared right on back, not budging an inch in his own pride. He stood as erect as he could, attempting to prove that while he would respect the man ordering him so, he would not allow him to rule his every action. He was a free man in a trapped environment.

"Kanda... Never heard a name like that before. Where are you from?"

"Japan, sir. I've spent most of my life in England, though. Sir."

Major Brown looked intrigued, an eyebrow cocked and a tiny smirk formed. He opened his mouth, presumably to say something, but Jennings returned, huffing, with a rifle. He offered it to the major, who stared at him incredulously for a moment before presenting it to Yuu.

"Do you have much experience with guns, Kanda?"

"None, sir."

The man's mouth opened slightly. Yuu anticipated some sort of snide comment, meant to humiliate or break down his pride. But instead the man merely clapped him on the shoulder and told him to "get his ass to the shooting range and not to come back until he could load, fire, and reload with some sort of accuracy in under a minute."

* * *

Life at the training camp was not that bad. Every morning, they both participated in drills. After lunch, Lavi toured the clearing, interviewing soldiers and generally gleaning as much information as he could. Every few hours, he would catch sight of his lover. It was an excellent treat to see the dark-haired man sweating with hard training. It reminded him of toned muscles hidden behind bandages, of sharp swords cutting so swiftly through the air that they were barely audible, of clenched jaws and hardened eyes carving determined expressions on the man's face.

It reminded him of the press of Yuu's chest against his and the sometimes painful grappling of hands and the feeling of Yuu's hands in his hair and the feeling of his lover's lips on his neck...

His logs would have to wait.

Casually, he leaned back in his chair and cast about his mind for random facts. There had to be one somewhere-_no_, not the one about the thumb and the penis size. He heard the flap of someone entering their tent and began to panic. It would not do for anyone to catch him like this.

He crossed his legs.

Yuu walked-perhaps _stumbled_ would be a more appropriate term-into the room, making a beeline for his bedroll. Without even a greeting, the man collapsed to the floor and dug his head far into the pillow until only his long hair, greasy from several days' hard work and few bathing opportunities, seemed to emerge from nowhere.

"You alright?" Lavi asked, inopportune erection forgotten.

Yuu's head rolled to the side, and he said, "I _hurt_."

"I could make you hurt more," Lavi suggested, half in jest.

"_No_." It was the don't-fuck-with-me voice. The warning signs were clear.

"I could make you hurt less," he said softly.

The Japanese man didn't move for a while. Obviously, he was deliberating. A few moments later, a cross "fine" emanated from the pillow, cuing Lavi to come closer.

He was careful when he sat atop Yuu's bottom; he didn't want to surpass whatever strange boundaries were currently restricting their relationship. They were already walking on a bed of nails, feet bleeding from their latest fight (if it could be called that). Surprisingly, the man did not protest. Apparently, his pain far exceeded whatever need he had for emotional and physical exclusion.

Putting his hands to Yuu's shoulders, Lavi immediately understood. It had been a long time since the dark-haired man had been so tense. It was no wonder that he was feeling irritable.

"You do realize that you still have translations to do when I'm finished, right?" He asked, working on a particularly bad knot near the Japanese man's spine. Yuu made a disagreeable noise that sounded a lot like a hiss.

"Shut the fuck up, you bastard rabbit."

Lavi leaned down to kiss the back of Yuu's neck. "I'm sorry, Love, I'll help you out if you want."

"Just..." The man stopped. Lavi wasn't sure if it was the massage or not, but the back of Yuu's neck was a bit red.

"Just what?" He wasn't entirely happy with how light and airy his voice sounded.

Silence dominated the pillow for a good while. When he realized no answer was forthcoming, Lavi began recounting his day, telling of how he'd met with the officers, how he'd learned the basic plan, how they had previously fought the Spanish out of this territory, how the Spanish were still attempting to get it back. There was no commentary, but he knew that Yuu was listening, probably very intently.

"How was your day?" He finally asked, leaning down and kissing Yuu's ear. The man jolted beneath him, making a noise that could have been a shout but came out more like the gasping yelp of a drowning man. "Sleepy, huh?" He teased, and tugged on the man's earlobe with his teeth.

"Nn." For such a short sound, it managed to capture Yuu's mood eloquently. There was irritation in his voice, but also something forgiving, which Lavi took as the go-ahead to kiss the juncture between ear and neck. Yuu breathed in deeply in response. Lavi smiled. Perhaps there weren't as many boundaries as he thought.

He pushed his limits, nibbling his way down Yuu's neck and to his collarbone. Each second, he waited for the other man to stop, shiver, push him away, but that didn't happen, so he kept going.

"Turn over," Lavi said, releasing most of his weight as he moved backward. Freed, the Japanese man did exactly as he was told. He looked up at Lavi with a fair amount of lust in his gaze. His face was bright red, but it looked kind of sexy, especially with how his lips were hanging just on the tail end of open, probably to admit more air into his mouth.

They kissed. It was long and messy, with much untoward groping and far too great a quantity of tongue, but it was good, and Lavi couldn't remember how long it had been since they'd been like _this_. He no longer cared about boundaries; he just wanted in. Yuu's pants, that was. Now.

Without care for grace, Lavi laid himself fully upon the other man, sliding his hips to grind with Yuu's. A moan, wanton and desperate, seeped up to Lavi's ears from below. Yuu's hands scrabbled after the moan, hooking vice-like around Lavi's biceps. Their hips clashed again, this time accompanied by the arching of Yuu's back. Greedy to see more, Lavi shifted his weight so that he could hold himself up on one arm while undoing the buttons of Yuu's army-standard shirt. The army's uniform was relatively easy-access in comparison to the Order's, so the task wasn't difficult.

Yuu's chest was softer than it had been five years ago. The man had not let himself go by any means, but he had lost some definition in the stomach area. But only a little bit. Still, Lavi didn't care all that much. He'd always found Yuu sexy, and a little bit of stomach flab wasn't going to turn him off. It was called aging. Lavi wasn't a muscleman anymore either. He shrugged and returned to kissing his lover.

"La...vi..." Yuu gasped, pulling away from their ongoing kiss.

_Damn_, he'd missed that tone. That... edgy, throaty, I'm-actually-not-being-an-asshole tone.

He rewarded his lover by kissing down his chest, running his tongue along his chest, near to where the tattoo once was. That action merited a gasp, and the hands moved from Lavi's arms to his own buttons.

Shirt dispensed with, their pants soon followed, and their undergarments after those. Their hips still clashed together, groans of pleasure escaping as rough, experienced hands moved downward.

"Lavi, I'm not comf-" Yuu began, pulling away somewhat. Through his lust, Lavi heard the plea to stop and somehow managed to slow down. He was gripping Yuu in one hand, he noticed, so he removed it. Even though he was tempted to continue.

"Gentlemen, I'm sorry to interrupt you during your time off, but I would like to-oh, dear Lord! Put some clothes on, will you!" Captain Marsain had entered the tent, though Lavi had no inkling as to when that had happened. His jaw fell open a little, such was his shock. To his credit, the captain looked equally gobsmacked. He did not blush, but he did not meet their eyes as he continued to speak. "Yes, well, er, I would suggest you not do that while here, but to each his own. Without further ado, I would like to introduce you to the new, ah, Bookman. He has orders to join you." The captain held himself with a fierce rigidity that made it clear he was not pleased with this situation. "I would, however, suggest you both dress and meet him outside the tent. I am frightfully glad I did not have him follow me in. As you were, gentlemen." He bowed his head slightly, perhaps with respect, perhaps with disdain-Lavi didn't rightly care-and turned on his heel, exiting the tent.

They scrambled to get dressed.

A new Bookman was an alarming thought. Lavi himself did not want the organization to learn that he was emotionally attached, but when he thought of danger, it was Yuu he was truly worried for. Yuu had worked very hard to pull off the role of a scribe, but any trained Bookman would be able to see through it immediately. The organization was nothing short of ruthless-it had to be, sending its own men out to war as it did.

Lavi remembered a time when he was still young. He and his mentor had had to return to headquarters to deal with what Bookman had called a "situation of grave parameters," whatever the hell that meant. The redhead still saw the blood spatter in his dreams, still remembered the calculating, impassive face as a middle-aged Bookman struck down an older Bookman. The elder one had committed no crime, he had just affected the wrong facial expression; he had worded his sentence incorrectly; he had cared.

You would think, Lavi often reflected after waking from that particular dream, that they would give the man a break. He was old, so why did it matter if he cared a little? He was going to die soon anyway. But no, there had been a flash of a mirrored blade and a gurgling hiss of the old man's last breath instead.

A new Bookman, therefore, was a truly alarming thought. They had all been taught to tune out any attachments. It was easy, then, to cross out a simple word on a solitary sheet of paper. Whoever this Bookman was, if he discovered Lavi's attachment or Yuu's false identity, he would not hesitate to do what was necessary for the good of the clan.

Everyone was ink on paper. Everyone could be blotted out in an instant.

Lavi included.

The flap at the mouth of the tent opened, admitting a much older man. He was olive-skinned-putting his birthplace somewhere around the Mediterranean-but it sagged. A myriad of liver spots dotted his exposed skin. His teeth were yellowed as he smiled briefly, politely, and completely falsely at them. From his silvered hair to his brown eyes-hazel, perhaps, though Lavi was not close enough to be sure-he reeked of Bookman. A wise aura surrounded him, but it was punctuated with a carelessness that could not be defined.

"I am Angelo. I was ordered here to accompany your record with my own. Have you been here long?" He offered a gnarled hand that looked like the only better days it had seen were now forgotten.

"I'm Lavi. We have only been here a few weeks. And I didn't believe my records had been labeled incomplete." The redhead spoke coldly, sizing up the intruder as best he could with such limited information. Already, his mind was blowing past third gear. He needed to meet and neutralize the potential threat. He would not allow Yuu to be hurt on this trip.

"They have not been," said the other Bookman, "but since this is such an important record, the higher-ups feel it is best to have more than one man on the job."

"Oh." He didn't know what to say to that. At least the Bookmen had not found his logs incomplete in any form. "Well, if they feel it is necessary..." He trailed off, hoping that would be the end of the meeting and that the Bookman would excuse himself.

"They did not inform me that you were in possession of a scribe."

Nope. His lucky streak had run out when he'd been able to win Yuu back. "I found him necessary for this particular mission. War zones often require either an apprentice or a scribe to translate the logs quickly so that they can be sent and processed with precision and ease."

"I do not recall seeing him when last I was at headquarters." Angelo raised an eyebrow.

"He's new, I'm afraid. Bit of a dunderhead, too, but I put up with his mistakes. He's a fast learner." Lavi shrugged.

"I thought they took them in young?"

"He was an exception. Showed a fair amount of talent, I think. Regardless, he's been a real asset of late." He tried to sound nonchalant, uncaring, and the acting seemed to work. The old man gave a nod of recognition and made to turn around.

"I will be in the next tent over. I'll be conferring with you several times a day." He left the tent.

Walking over to reset the tent's flap, Lavi heaved a sigh. The conversation had gone better than planned, which was definitely a plus, but he wasn't sure how long the act would be able to stay in place. Especially with such an experienced Bookman on hand.

* * *

The bullets made heavy drumbeats in the trunk of the tree he was leaning behind. The battle had long been going south, the soldiers having been caught off guard by the sudden attack. He had had just enough time to grab his rifle and sword before being lost among the scrambling crowd of panic and slaughter. He had lost sight of Lavi soon after the first shots had been fired, but he figured he had better think about his own survival when he knew without a doubt the redhead could take care of himself in these situations. He no longer had his lotus, so he had to be on his guard more than he would have needed only a few months before.

Soldiers ran past, blind with fear and unfamiliarity with the region. Rifle-fire still clogged the air, and there had been no signal of retreat, so the battle was still going strong.

A loud _thunk_ signaled that he had been spotted.

Running from his resting spot, Yuu scanned the vicinity for the perpetrator of the attack, loading his gun as he went. Heading toward the line of trees to the North, Yuu spotted his attacker. The man was struggling to reload, but he was a bit too slow. The soldier sunk to the ground with a bullet to the head.

The trees didn't offer much cover, but they did expose where the rest of the battle was taking place. Rifles lay discarded on the ground, either because of malfunction, loss of ammunition, or death of the soldier, and the two sides were caught up in a show of swordplay or brute strength for those who did not wield a weapon.

Men on both sides were dropping like flies, so Yuu drew Mugen and ran out onto the field. Fending off the poor skills of some Spanish private, the dark-haired man scanned the field for any signs of advancement or signal of retreat. There was none, but he could not look for long, as he was confronted which another target.

The ground was already soaked through with blood, and the hot Cuban weather did nothing but give a welcoming call to the local insects. Flies and mosquitoes swarmed around the bodies and around the fighters, fatigued from battle.

Gunshots once again rang out from the North, and he ran off, leaving another child to die in the summer heat.

He ran through brush and more forest, searching for the source of the noise. The foliage thickened, becoming impossible to run through without the risk of being clothes-lined by some plant.

There was someone off to his right, but he couldn't slow down in time to turn and hide. He had just enough time to bring up his rifle and aim. There were two shots fired, one hit its target in the chest of a Spanish officer and the man fell. The other found its home through Yuu's leg and into the base of the tree on his other side.

He didn't know if he yelled out of not. He fell onto the ground and tried to assess the damage, trying to tell himself that he was fine, that we wouldn't die from a gunshot. He knew it was okay, he could get up and walk away if he only tried. But images of the last time he had been shot brought back the fear he had been fighting to suppress for years. The fear of fading away into dust as poison burned its way through his veins, leaving his skin pock-marked with stars. That was the fear every Exorcist faced, and he had to face that too, because he had lived through that vision far too often for his liking and he knew this would not kill him. He was stronger than his memories. Besides, he still had things to do, and he wouldn't let fear or pain keep him from his mission.

So the Japanese man stood up. Using his rifle as a make-shift crutch, he limped away toward the sounds he had heard before.

He paused after a few minutes to listen. There was no more gunfire, no more screams. Had he misheard the direction in which the sounds had come? Maybe he was losing his touch, maybe the pain and loss of blood were becoming to much.

A branch cracked, and he was facing the danger in an instant, Mugen at the ready, ready to attack, ready to...

Major Samuel Brown jumped down from his perch in the nearest fig tree. It appeared that even in the heat of battle, there was no disturbing that mustache.

They nodded at each other in recognition. The Major's eyes flicked for a moment to Yuu's leg. He could see that it was nothing to worry about at that instant.

"The gunshots?" Yuu questioned quickly, not wanting to remain in one place for too long.

"Heard them, can't figure out from where. No blood, no bodies." Somewhere in the pit of Yuu's stomach, a sense of foreboding lurked. And it had nothing to do with the terrible rations provided by the army. With what the Major had just told him, they very well could have just fallen into a trap. Perhaps Brown sensed this as well, because he did not let his pistol rest.

There was a rustle of underbrush and a metal jingle a couple meters away. Without a single spoken word, both men hid themselves behind the tall palm trees that were everywhere. Hastily, Yuu began to reload his gun. There was nothing for a few moments, but soon a man appeared, limping from what appeared to be a gunshot. He made his way slowly, agonizingly. He carried a small pack with him. Two spoons hung freely from the side, clacking together with every step.

As he passed Yuu's hiding place, the jingling paused, and he heard the loud click of a pistol being loaded right next to his ear. He stood up gingerly, leaving Mugen and his gun to rest in the grass, and raised his hands. He knew when he was caught. So did the Major, it seemed. In the corner of his eye, he watched his action mirrored.

"_Qué artesanía fina_," muttered the Spanish soldier, his eye on Mugen's gleaming blade.

In the distance, as they were marched away, the trumpeted retreat sounded loudly.

* * *

A/N: Now, we will have part three up tonight as well, but the last part is still being written. We went to an Irish festival this weekend, and we lost two days of writing because of it. Those two days of writing would have been the days we used to finish this. So as soon as Venia is finished, we'll edit and post it. Then we will write more of HtSaL. If we meet our daily quota of 1000 words, we should have it for you before we get back to school. Also, please note that we have changed the order of our fics-to-do.

Qué artesanía fina = hopefully this is the correct translation for "what fine craftsmanship." If it's wrong, please let us know! Em1 speaks German, and Em2 speaks French and a little Japanese. Spanish is like a foreign language to us. :P


	3. Part 3

_Part 3:_

The aftermath of battle was always confusing. It was a universal law that could not be broken. Always, there would be soldiers screaming, moaning, needing help; sometimes they would live, their fellow soldiers would help them out, but most times they called in vain. It was hard to tell if the silence from where a shout had once come was death or just the tax you paid for overusing your voice.

Lavi pretended not to worry. He had yet to see Angelo, but you could never be too careful...

"Bookman!"

Lavi looked over his shoulder. He'd recognized the voice immediately as that of Captain Marsain.

"Captain," he greeted. The man came up to flank his left shoulder. "Rounding up the men?"

"Yes. Help me out with that one over there. He looks a bit peaky." Marsain pointed to a black man who had a severe head wound. Tears streamed down the man's face, and his mouth was making feverish movements. A hand with three severed fingers came up and made the sign of the cross.

Nodding in acknowledgment, the redhead and the captain tread carefully toward the man in question. His mouth was still flapping, and as they approached him, a buzzing of words reached Lavi's ears.

"_-Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen._" The man spoke in raspy Latin and made the sign of the cross over his chest once more. The movement splattered blood onto the grass at the man's left side, joining the pool already provided by someone not fortunate enough to say his last prayers.

"Relax, man, you are safe," Marsain said, reaching down and hooking his hands underneath the black soldier's armpits. He heaved mightily, with Lavi assisting once he was at a proper angle. He found the man's fingers among the flattened blades of grass of the ditch he'd hidden in. Perhaps they could be salvaged. Medicine had improved so much since the days when he'd begun recording the battlefields with Bookman.

Blood drenched his uniform as they made it back to camp. Handing the praying man-he had not stopped, even to acknowledge the captain-to a doctor, they went out again to retrieve more of the wounded.

Racing across the field, back and forth, was tedious, tiring work, but Lavi did not stop until his breath came in wheezing gasps. He collapsed in the middle of the field and opened his standard-issue jacket. It was blazing and muggy. He reached for his water bottle, but the canister had taken a hit by some shrapnel and had leaked away long ago. Lavi had been so intent on staying alive that he hadn't even noticed. Perhaps that was bad for his rank as a Bookman, but he could not bring himself to care. All he could muster the energy to think was something along the lines of "thank God it was that and not me."

Of course, that thought implied that he actually believed in God, which, strictly speaking, he did not. Even after all that shit with the Order, it was just too uncanny to believe in a God who would inflict so many evils upon his own creation. Perhaps he was like the Bookmen and looked down on Earth with an impassive eye.

Feeling somewhat recuperated, Lavi sat up. The world blurred and turned. Shaking his head, he made to stand up, maybe let his mind clear, but Nature seemed to like to fuck with him, and it pushed him right back down again. His head landed on something rough. With a great force of will, he lifted his head to see what was obstructing his faint.

It was the leather belt that attached Mugen to Yuu's hip. A few meters away, Mugen's sheath glowed in the intense evening sun.

Abruptly, dizziness was gone-well, repressed. He could function enough to follow the depressions in the grass. Behind him, he heard a call from the captain, but he ignored it. He was not military, strictly speaking. His lover was more important than any damned mission. Yuu was more important than trying to appear objective.

The world spun everywhere but where he focused. Black spots-probably caused by dehydration, the rational half of his brain told him-blotted out his peripheral vision. But he persevered. He just had to find Yuu, make sure the man was alright, and then he could stop, rest. Maybe he could even beg a sip from the dark-haired man's canteen.

A trail of blood began, and odd indentations upturned some of the grass, allowing dirt to show through. A helmet, too large to cover Yuu's head, sat on a root of a tall tree. But to the right, a few strands of long, black hair were caught on a bush.

Oh, shit.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

His brain swirled in the opposite direction of the rest of the world, collapsing his vision until all he could see was a tiny pinprick of light far, far off in the distance. He blinked to make it clear, to try to regain control over himself, but somewhere nearby, someone was huffing like an asthmatic. Lavi had the vaguest suspicion it was him.

Maybe someone said something, but before the pinprick was snuffed, Lavi thought he heard Captain Marsain shouting at him to get up.

His body couldn't function without water, though.

* * *

They were staring at him. Trying to decide what to do with him, he supposed. The Major had been taken into another room, and Yuu hadn't seen or heard anything from him in the few hours he had been held. Maybe they didn't think he could speak Spanish, which was true. They probably couldn't speak English either. They looked vexed, kind of like when Yuu had been trying to learn the language of the Bookman, though thankfully, he thought in retrospect, the grammar had been based on Chinese. He chuckled to himself as the two men in front of him bickered back and forth over what to do.

He was feeling a bit light-headed. Probably from blood loss and lack of water. It was sweltering in the prison cell they had him in.

Finally, it appeared the two men had come to a decision. One man, the older of the two, began a series of hand gestures, that looked to Yuu as if the man was asking him if there was a tree on the square moon, where the birds were eating the fish. But that was just a rough estimate. His face must have given them all the answer they needed.

The second man pushed the older one away and began to speak in very slow, very simple English.

"What... is... the General... planning? Where will... they attack... next?" The young man didn't have a very strong accent.

They didn't think he understood English.

In retrospect, he should have just kept his mouth shut, but he wasn't exactly in a proper state of mind when he said, "I can understand you, you stupid Spaniards."

They didn't take to insults too kindly, as the older man withdrew a hammer.

There was an odd crunching sound. Then Yuu realized it was his leg.

A dull throb prompted him to look down. Yuu didn't get disturbed easily, but he was more than a little sickened by the appearance of his leg. Halfway down his shin, the line of bone was broken. Blood was running everywhere, moving down the newly-created cliff that was his leg like a waterfall. Most of the skin around the hammered area was broken or ripped or stretched, though the worst bit was the shard of bone that was pressing a hill into the top of his leg. He looked up at his assailants and blinked nonchalantly until the throb turned into an agony so profound that it stripped color away, whitewashed his world for at least a minute.

Gritting his teeth together, involuntary tears leaking from his eyes, he waited for his vision to stabilize. It was hard to remember pain like this. Before, pain had been a numb thing. It hadn't been sharp and throbbing. Pain was fleeting and something he could overcome without a second thought. Now it actually felt real, like this was something that could kill him if he only let it.

But he wouldn't let it, he would just have to overcome this heightened level of agony and keep going, just like before.

Looking up, he saw the two men staring at him, waiting for him to start screaming, pleading for mercy or some shit. They were going to be disappointed, he would give them no such satisfaction.

They were mumbling to each other in rapid Spanish. Confused. This had always worked before; what were they supposed to do now?

Fucking amateurs. They didn't understand that this was war, they had no idea what _real_ war was. This was only child's play, like toy soldiers on the march. They did not know of an enemy that could strike fear at the very mention of its name.

You could inflict pain upon your enemy until the very limits were breached and information was yours for the taking , but it took an artist to truly break a weathered warrior with only the thought of the torture that was about to be inflicted upon them. These recruits were no artists, they were fumbling apprentices at the hands of Michelangelo. He chuckled a little at how unsure these men were.

He was really making them uncomfortable. It was probably the amount of blood leaking from both the bullet and hammer wounds. It had created quite a pool on the dirt floor. He watched it for a moment as it slowly grew. It didn't seem like a lot-he'd lost more and survived... on second thought, he wondered just how much he _could_ lose before he passed out.

"_You apprentices are missing quite a bit in the brains, aren't you? Bet you can't even hold a sword..._" Yuu mumbled in Japanese. He dearly missed Mugen. Though it no longer hosted active Innocence, the blade was beautiful and never stained. He wanted to show the two clueless idiots how torture was really done.

They wouldn't miss a few of their fingers, he reckoned.

The dunderheads shuffled closer together, whispering hurriedly to each other. One of the captors, the one with the ludicrous handlebar mustache, hunched his shoulders as if he was trying to curl into a ball. Yuu understood at once and smirked.

"_You are naïve._"

The two men rocked forward into each other until the rigid lines of their heavily starched uniforms nearly touched. Quietly, they conferred, giving him side-long glances that would have worried Yuu had his wound not expelled an alarming amount of blood. He decided that maybe English was a better route.

"Hey, idiots, you won't get your information if you let me die." He was rather proud of how calm he sounded. Like he hadn't just been mutilated.

* * *

His nostrils... were burning. Kind of like someone had replaced his mucus with acid.

"Fucking smelling salts!" He shouted, sitting bolt upright. The room blurred even as it appeared to him, and he clenched his jaw to keep down the nausea swirling in his stomach.

A firm hand pushed against his chest, sending him straight back into the bedroll.

"Stay down, lad, there's no rush." The voice was that of Captain Marsain, who must have carried him back from the woods after he had, embarrassingly enough, passed out.

"Gotta get up, haveta go find 'im. He's still alive, I tell 'ya!" His senses were only about a third of what they normally were, but even in his dazed state, he knew that Yuu was in trouble and needed help. And no second rate captain was going to stop him. He struggled to free himself from his captor, but his effort was useless, his muscles still lacking the necessary water for action.

A few moments later, a tanned, generous hand thrust a tin cup into his grip, and after draining several cups' worth, his vision finally cleared.

Sitting up, gingerly this time, Lavi scanned the room. No Bookman in sight to have witnessed his outburst. He stood up and was displeased to notice that he was still shaking, but he began to pack his things anyway. He'd need food and water for a trip of an undetermined amount of time. He continued his work quietly for a while, ignoring Marsain completely, until the man's curiosity finally got the best of him.

"Where do you think you're going?" The captain asked with a heavy sigh.

"I told you, I'm going to find my scribe. He has a tendency to disappear and let us all think he's dead when he's really off being an overconfident idiot," Lavi grumbled, trying to remember where he had put that one notebook.

"How do you know he's alive? You have to have some clue. My Major is missing as well, and I need to know if there's any hope he could be alive."

"There was a set of footprints in the woods, leading from where his sword was. It appeared as though he had met someone in that same area, but there was no fight, so they must have known each other. Then sometime during that meeting, three other sets of prints appeared and then they all walked off in one direction. So yes, I do think they are alive, and I am going to get them back. Whether you come with me or not."

The captain raised his hands, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to find words. "You think I'd leave an idiot like you to do a _covert_ operation alone?"

Lavi wanted to be offended, but he realized the captain had a point-he had gravitated back to his forty-ninth persona quite a bit (Yuu's influence, no doubt), and if there was one thing "Lavi" was terrible at, it was being secretive and quiet. He nodded, took the insult gracefully, and gestured for Marsain to tell him what they would need to do.

* * *

It might have been very late or very early; it was difficult to tell when your cell had no windows. His attendants and would-be torturers had been relieved by the nighttime guard who had the bad habit of dragging the heels of his heavy military boots.

It was also tough to say how long he'd been there. A couple days at the least. He had been taken for interrogation a few other times, but they had not harmed him like in the first session. His care wasn't inhumane, they gave him food and water, and bandaged his leg, but nothing else. His injury throbbed constantly and had swelled up to an unhealthy size. He hadn't tried to stand up or move from the wooden bench in his cell because his last attempt had resulted in the world moving out from under him and his head hitting the ground.

The sound of boots scraping against dirt grew louder again and the night guard stopped in front of the heavy wooden doorway. It opened with the sound of jingling keys. His attendant was a younger man, tan with black hair. He placed a plate of food on the ground about half a meter away and walked out. The routine never deviated; he never spoke, or whistled, or did anything but walk the hallway and pass out food.

Though he hadn't eaten anything the previous time he had been given the simple prisoner's meal of bread and water, he wasn't hungry. Which was a bad sign, so the dark-haired man gingerly leaned down and tried to reach the meager portions. It was stale but edible, except that his body didn't understand that it needed nourishment to survive and heal, and it quickly expelled any remaining sustenance from his system.

He swayed forward, and the world flipped upside down. Back aching, leg throbbing, he turned his head so his cheek rested on the dirt floor. It stank a little, especially with his nose so close to the chunky pool of his dinner.

The boots dragged away, echoed off into the distance. That was good. Yuu wasn't all that keen on letting others see just how weak he was. He wished for his lotus, something that could just make the pain go away and let the wound heal. More footsteps approached, but they were different than the security guard's. Probably just some Spanish fucker come to taunt him. A couple of them had done so already, obviously having nothing better to do than stand in front of a miserable prisoner's cell while his leg rotted off.

Murmured speech drizzled down on his face like a purifying, awakening rain. The pain didn't lessen, but his grip on reality became a little less fuzzy. Sudden, thunder-like clanging yielded a voice that stood out starkly against the dark, silent prison.

"Jesus fucking Christ!"

"Shut up!" Another voice admonished in a whisper. The jolt had brought Yuu's awareness, once swirling abovehead, crashing back into his body, but he could not identify the second person.

He figured it was just his imagination. It would be too... convenient to get away from here so soon. It was probably morning-it was so hard to keep track of time-and the two people were on their way to take over for the nighttime guard.

"I'm sorry, it's just-mother_fucker_." A limping gait now accompanied the footsteps Yuu had heard earlier. Maybe if he talked to the approaching people, they would reveal themselves as the Spaniards they really were and not who he desperately hoped they were.

"Y'never were goo' at stealth, Lavi," Yuu said into the darkness. Perhaps he should worry about how numb his lips were, how motionless his tongue was.

"Yuu?" The rabbit's voice called. The limping gait disappeared and was replaced by uneven, hurried steps. The person's arrival was announced by the clashing sound of something very heavy and very solid hitting the bars. He turned his head in the direction of the noise and realized that light had come with it. He saw a dimly-lit shock of red hair hidden behind a bandanna that may or may not have once been part of a uniform. The redhead looked smudged and a little battered, but his half-worried, half-elated expression and his one working eye identified him immediately. Apparently, he hadn't been hearing things wrong, hadn't been hoping so hard that his shaky reality had bent itself to his whims.

"Lavi?" He asked, just to make sure. His tongue still wasn't working all that well. In fact, it more or less just flailed in his mouth, making his question sound more like _Uavi_.

"Oh, shit, it's you. Thank God. Okay, hold on just a moment, I'll get you-Jesus eating Peter! Captain, look at his leg!" Lavi's exclamations were quiet, but they echoed like everything else in this goddamned cell. It was then that Yuu realized that the second set of footsteps had caught up, revealing the self-assured face of Captain Marsain, who, even in a crisis, managed to remain authoritative. He reminded Yuu a little of Cross in how he stomped over the world, actually.

"Fuck, well get him up, we still need to find Brown." Marsain handed Lavi his rifle. "Use that for a crutch, just hurry it up! I'm going to look down the hall."

Lavi pulled a key ring from his side and began fitting different keys into the lock, jiggling them every once in a while. Yuu jumped when he heard the _click_ that announced he was free.

Then he heard shuffling.

Lavi was already pulling him up, heaving him so that he was leaning against the man's shoulder, but the shuffling grew closer during this struggle. Yuu could not speak, for any slight noise would echo down the hallway and give them away at once. Weakly, he tightened his fingers around Lavi's shirt. He tried to pull, but most of his energy had left him after his latest attempt at eating had gone awry.

The redhead stiffened. It seemed that he, too, had noticed the footsteps. With patient strides, he dragged the two of them away. Yuu imagined that maybe they were following the same path as the captain, but he really had no idea. His vision was gone. Though he knew Lavi had light with him, black spots had covered his vision until what little he could see was obscured. Sounds, too, were getting distant, but he was still conscious, still taking every other step with his good leg. The going must have been slow. Yuu's waterlogged mind tried to make him move faster. Each breath was becoming an impossible effort. His legs crumpled. Someone caught him, pulled him up, kept him moving. Who? Lavi, right.

Were they out yet? No, they couldn't be. He still... still needed something. What? Oh, of course. He was such an idiot sometimes.

"We're not leaving without Mugen."

He wasn't sure if he'd said it or not. His hearing was still gone, his vision still missing. But he needed Mugen or he wasn't leaving at all.

Let them torture him all they wanted. Mugen was _his_ sword.

* * *

Locating Brown was a bit of a difficulty. The Spanish base had three buildings. They'd chosen the one that had looked most heavily guarded, but the Major hadn't appeared in it. The second building was behind a long, grassy field of tents, and the third stood a great distance away, like a lone bastion protecting the land from heathen Americans.

That was where he would have to look next. Behind him, he heard labored breathing and the heavy fall of boots. There was a murmur below those noises, but Marsain drowned it out and instead raised a fist into the air as a signal for the man behind him to halt.

Bookman's lackey-scribe, fuck-buddy, whatever-had been in bad shape, meaning that Brown could possibly be dead already. However, as long as another building existed, hope could not be snuffed out.

"Mugen..." The murmur was finally close enough to be understood. "Mugen... Mugen..."

"Who the fuck is 'Mugen?'" Marsain hissed into the darkness. "Some old lover?"

"No," Bookman answered in a whisper, "it's his sword."

"Well, get him to shut his mouth," he snapped.

"_Mugen_," the dying man insisted. Marsain turned around so as to _make_ him shut up, but Bookman had already covered his lackey's mouth.

Though building one had been swarming with soldiers, the third seemed relatively deserted. Making their way down into the lower level, where the prison was most likely located, there didn't seem to be anyone at all. Which didn't sit well with Marsain. There would be guards down there if they felt like there was someone to guard.

He rounded a corner ahead of the Bookman to scope out potential danger. Still nothing, but he checked the cells anyway. Brown was in the last cell in the corridor, and he was in much worse shape than Kanda had been. Even through the hazy hallway light, the pool of blood around the man was visible.

The only problem was that they didn't have a key to the cells of the third building. They would have to wait until a guard appeared to... acquire them.

So they waited. An hour. Marsain was normally a patient man, but with his Major dead or dying and the constant mumbling in the background, it was enough to drive even the Pope to think about committing murder.

Just when he had begun to consider putting the man out of his misery, the distinct sound of keys jingling down the hall wafted toward them. His relief was almost too much to bear, and the captain was immediately in position, ready to strike.

Anyone in the hallway would have only heard a light thud as the approaching guard was tackled to the floor, knocked out from the force of his head impacting the wall, and the faint jangle of keys disappearing into a corridor.

Marsain let himself feel a tiny thrill of victory as the cell door swung open, but the joy was soon overwhelmed by sadness. He examined his Major, surprised that the man still held any pulse at all. Picking him up gingerly-he was fragile, his breathing shallow, and Marsain intuitively knew that the man was close to death-he made his way into the hall to join the Bookman. It was hard to ignore the warm, oozing feeling of another man's blood dribbling down his shoulder and back.

He turned around, faced Bookman and Kanda (who was still idiotically muttering after his sword as blood dripped from his leg). Not daring to shift in order to signal their retreat, Marsain simply led the way.

It was still dark outside as they left the building, and the lawn was still nearly deserted. The rescue mission, for all intents and purposes, looked like a success. Still, he moved cautiously and stayed as low as he could with a man on his back. They reached the first building without a problem, but as he positioned himself so that he was hidden in the shadows, he saw that the exit was fairly well guarded. He needed to think.

He needed a plan that would distract the troops long enough for them to escape with the two wounded men. Think, think, god damn, would he stop mumbling? It was impossible to concentrate when someone was mumbling so close to his ear, especially since it made his heart jump in pace for fear of discovery. He turned slightly to shut the man up when... silence. Golden, heavenly silence. Unnerving silence. Kanda, whose face was maybe a foot from his own, had finally shut his trap.

The man's gaze was not entirely lucid, yet it was extremely focused on a point out in the distance. He scrabbled a bit on Bookman's back, as if yearning to dismount. A solitary hand waved its way above Bookman's head before letting it succumb to gravity's pull.

"Mugen," Kanda said. Marsain waited for the litany to continue, but it did not.

Bookman gasped and slowly raised a finger to point along the path of Kanda's gaze. Marsain turned to look as well, but all he saw was the silhouette of a pacing soldier. He carried a lantern with him, and its light shone off something bright and silver hanging from his belt.

"We are not going on a detour for what _may_ be his damned sword," Marsain said in a hushed but firm voice. Bookman slowly got to his knees, ignoring what was very plainly an order in disguise, and set his lackey down on the ground. Obviously, he needed to clarify. "If you move from this position, I will-"

Bookman held a finger to his lips, winked in an infuriating manner, and sprinted after the glinting soldier. Damned Bookmen! They never fucking _listened_! It had been exactly the same with that old biddy the red-haired one had replaced. Just marching around with no respect for authority, like she thought she was some godly creature sent down to offer insight into the war. Bull fucking shit. See if he waited around. There was a perfect opening between guards _right now_, and if he moved within the next minute, he could make it to the exit.

Too bad his heart was in the way. _Don't leave anyone behind_. That was a mantra that had been drilled into his head since day one. He could not leave a wounded and helpless man behind, regardless of if he was formally a part of the army or not. Kanda had befriended (well, tolerated was probably a better word) a good bit of the company during the weeks he'd been training. Like it or not, Kanda was a soldier, and he was injured; Marsain couldn't leave him behind. What would the men think of him then? Not a whole lot, that was for sure.

The sound of the grass rustling pushed his breathing from his chest to his throat. Careful to keep support of the still-bleeding Major Brown, he shifted so that he could pull out his handgun. Sacrifices would probably have to be made if he was overpowered or discovered, but he would alert attention to himself unless necessary. Often, people could be taken out without the need for loud, booming weapons.

Marsain secretly hated guns; they were too gory, too violent, too damned _noisy_ for his good graces. But no one would ever be the wiser to that fact.

The grass rustler drew closer, enough so that Marsain could identify heavy breathing. Whoever was coming at them was coming fast. He had an inkling, but he cocked his gun, just in case. Major Brown shuddered on his back.

"I've got it!" Was the triumphant whisper from the grass rustler. It was, as Marsain had expected, Bookman. He wouldn't say it aloud, but he had sort of hoped the man would be killed while in pursuit of the sword.

They still had enough time to make it.

"Good, then pick up your scribe and hope you have enough stamina to get out of here."

Bookman complied, and then they ran, each trying not to jostle his charge too much. Kanda moaned a little bit at the rough treatment, but Brown stayed silent. He was probably unconscious from blood loss. Marsain made a mental note to check on him as soon as they were far enough away from danger to safely take a rest.

* * *

Lavi was entirely out of breath when they stopped at the stream. He hoped Yuu couldn't hear how heavy his huffing was becoming, or at least that the dark-haired man wouldn't mention it.

It had been a long journey away from the Spanish encampment. At least a mile or two. They had stopped briefly once they had reached the dense brush about a half mile outside of the camp, but that had only been to regroup and check on the two wounded men. Since then, it had been almost straight jogging. It had been years since this level of fitness had been required of Lavi, and he found himself a stranger to the strain it put on his body. Every muscle screamed to stop; his lungs shuddered with each gasped breath; his heart beat so hard that Lavi thought it might be keen on leaping out of his chest. It would be a strange image, he had thought to himself as his feet monotonously continued their work, if his heart actually did shatter his ribs and burst from his chest-not that he would be able to see it bouncing up and down off the leaves and twigs of the forest floor, dead as he would be, but he liked to think that perhaps it would keep trudging onward. Perhaps his heart was just urging him to move faster.

He'd given up on that hypothesis when his throat began to burn with each breath, needy for water and rest. His heart just wanted him to keel over like the rest of him did.

There was little grace to the shrugging maneuver he used to dislodge Yuu from his back. The man had passed out perhaps three hours before, Lavi could tell because his grunts of pain had ceased, but he'd come to after another hour or so. It was hard to pull himself up from the ground to assess the damage to his lover, but Lavi managed the task just the same. In these times, when energy seemed elusive, Lavi wondered if his Innocence, no longer active but still in existence, was helping him out.

"You still bleeding?" He asked while prodding at Yuu's shoulders and arms, searching for injuries.

"_Che_," was all he got as a response. Taking that as an affirmative, the redhead removed his army jacket and took his undershirt in hand. He ripped off a nice long piece that could possibly serve as a bandage and abandoned Yuu's arms in favor of his broken leg.

"Looks infected," he mentioned, pointing out a particularly swollen spot, complete with dark purple skin.

"Your powers of deduction amaze me," Yuu said in a tone that to some might have sounded aggressive. It was sarcasm, though. Yuu's emotions were somewhat... jumbled on occasion.

"We'll have to amputate," Lavi said sagely. He pulled Mugen from his belt and placed it just above his lover's knee. "Otherwise the infection could spread."

He only had to wait half a moment before the dark-haired man was sitting upright and making a grab for his sword. Lavi lifted it out of reach and tutted, smiling.

"That's no way to treat your surgeon, Yuu-chan," he teased. For effect, he waved Mugen tauntingly. Yuu crossed his arms and glared at him.

"If you'll let me examine it, I'll see if I can do anything about your leg." Yuu nodded blearily and gestured for him to continue. His leg was grotesque, lumpy, a mixture of purple and green. Blood was crusted over most of Yuu's leg from the knee down, and it oozed steadily from the top of the break. Lavi was a little nauseous, but he swallowed it back as best he could and soaked the bandage-to-be in the stream. With careful movements, he cleaned off as much as he could. Yuu yelped when Lavi got too close to the break. It quickly turned into a steady moan, especially when the redhead managed to find a bullet wound on his calf. He hissed, and though Lavi wouldn't mention it, a few tears fell down the man's cheeks.

He refilled his water pouch in the stream and then gave it to Yuu, who took it, drinking with such speed that he lost quite a bit in the waterfall that fell from his chin. Lavi would have smiled, would have found the moment endearing, had Yuu not been so gravely injured. Instead, he put himself back to work, slowly working away all the old blood and staunching the flow of that yet to come. After a good while, his task finished, Lavi snatched up a nearby branch, breaking it to size with his foot, and ripped more of his undershirt so that he could create a splint.

Turning around to check on Marsain, who had been awfully quiet for some time, Lavi froze. The captain was slouching. The man carried himself tall and proud, with authority, confidence. But now, he looked withered, withdrawn, and a little lost.

"Captain?" Lavi asked hesitantly. He wasn't sure he wanted to peek in on the man's vulnerable moment. He was wary of Bookmen and had made his enmity toward Lavi very clear. He was stand-offish and cold at his best, so seeing him at this fragile moment was bad. Bad because Marsain would know that he had seen it, would know that Lavi would remember it forever and would more than likely write it down in a record that could, at request, be made known to the proper benefactor. The Order had used such knowledge; the governments used them, too. Private citizens, often with money, came calling to learn about certain historical facts. The Bookmen were a utility of the world. Everyone on the planet could potentially view what Marsain would see as a moment of weakness. Such knowledge could humiliate him.

"He's dead."

It was a simple statement-short, one of the smallest sentences in the English language-but it was spoken in a hushed, wavering tone. Each syllable wobbled like a table with one leg too short. And when the captain turned around, Lavi averted his eyes. He did not want to have to record what he saw there. The sadness, the loss, he'd felt it so many times that he could not bear to write it down, rehash all the pain his fledgling heart had once felt. So many had died, so many that he had come to love. And when he'd thought Yuu was dead...

Blinking back tears, Lavi forced himself back into his Bookman persona. He stood, stony, with an uncaring mask hardly covering the raw emotion he felt in tangent with Captain Marsain.

"That's a pity." His voice was hard, merciless.

Marsain looked blankly at him, eyes narrowing with each passing moment. He opened his mouth to speak, but a voice drifting up from the ground beat him to it.

"Lavi, shut the fuck up. We both know how he feels, so stop _pretending_."

The redhead watched as Marsain closed his mouth and turned around, pulling in a sharp, labored breath as he picked up the dead man.

"Let's go," the captain ordered. Lavi's eyes welled up. He _did_ know how the man felt. The suffering he'd gone through when he'd thought Yuu was dead would never be forgotten, but this was different. Brown was supposed to be ink on paper, dammit!

Wiping at his leaking blind eye, Lavi bent down and scooped Yuu up, swinging him onto his back. "Yes, sir," he said quietly, trudging along after the man.

* * *

A/N: And that's part 3. Part 4 will have sex, so it won't be safe for work. Not that part 2 was all that safe, but ;; it was a short scene, yeah? Anyway, the ending is nigh! :( Again, happy b-day, Lavi. ^^)


	4. Part 4

**Please note that due to policy changes, we have had to edit and/or omit parts of this story. If you would like to read it in full and without changes, please find it on our LJ or on our aff account.**

_Part 4:_

"I will murder that fucking Noah'd _Moyashi_!" The dark-haired man declared, brandishing a finger high into the air and attempting to sit up. Lavi held him down, which took a lot of effort. Even suffering from fever dreams, Yuu was strong and probably at his most dangerous.

"No, Yuu-chan, it'll take a long time to get back to do that, and by then, will you really want to?"

Yuu gave him a look that clearly stated his opinion on the matter. Then his eyes rolled back into his head and he passed out. Sighing in relief, Lavi picked the damp towel up from the floor, re-wet it, and wiped away the sweat that accumulated since Yuu's "awakening." Letting it drape over his forehead in an attempt to keep the fever under control, Lavi finally sat back.

The last several days had been an adventure, to say the least. He'd been at Yuu's side almost constantly, as he was possibly the only man who knew how to stop Kanda from grabbing his sword and limping back up to England. Most of Yuu's fever dreams were about the war. Which was understandable. His entire life had been dedicated to the fight against the Millennium Earl, so most of his life had included watching others die. He had been right when he'd said they both knew how Marsain felt about the death of Major Brown.

There had been a service for the late Major the day after they'd returned, sweaty and blood-soaked. Out of respect, Lavi hadn't attended. He let the other Bookman take care of that particular duty.

That was his official story. But actually, he was too much of a coward to face the captain after he'd been so callous back at the stream. So he contented himself with his vigil and occupied himself with catching up on logs and translating them. Occasionally, he would pause, either due to some movement or sound Yuu had made in his sleep, and the redhead would run a hand through his lover's hair or wring out the washcloth on the man's forehead again. This routine continued for another day until the camp doctor returned to check in on his patient's progress.

Lavi hovered behind the young man impatiently, not trusting an inexperienced eye, but he had to admit, even an idiot could see that the bone was not setting properly.

"We need to rebreak the bone and reset it. He won't be able to walk if we leave it like this. Best to do it while he's unconscious," the doctor diagnosed. He said it casually, like this was something that happened all the time. Which, in a war zone such as this, was probably the case and meant Yuu actually was in capable hands.

It was a good thing the Japanese man was still asleep.

The young doctor reached into his medical bag and produced a sleek iron mallet. At once, Lavi's heart raced. Not with fear of the medical procedure about to unfold, but with longing to hold the mallet in his hands, to feel the rush of activated Innocence in his veins. He wanted to remember the power that had come with his hammer, if only for a moment. His mouth spoke for him before his brain could catch up.

"Can I hold that?"

The doctor looked at him with a cocked eyebrow, but he nodded. The mallet was much heavier than Oodzuchi Kodzuchi had been, but the familiar feel of metal in his grip was empowering. Lavi smiled without meaning to. He liked hammers.

When he handed it back, the doctor took a bottle of distilled vodka (the cheap shit, Lavi noted, half with disgust-vodka had been a good friend to him in the years between the end of the Innocence War and his reunion with Yuu) and cleaned the mallet off. After strapping Yuu down and pressing a stick between his teeth, the doctor proceeded.

Yuu started awake with a high-pitched scream that made him sound a little like Komui after learning of Lenalee's pregnancy. Or maybe like a constipated Allen.

Lavi watched as Yuu frothed while the doctor reset his leg and put it in a splint, giving him orders to stay in bed for at least a week. Then the doctor left them alone, and the redhead moved onto the bed, undoing the leather straps holding Yuu down.

"I will murder that fucker right now," Yuu said, scowling. The stick that had been in his mouth was now sitting in his lap. Lavi assumed he'd removed it with his tongue.

"He was only doing what is best for you," Lavi tried to reason, but Yuu's scowl just deepened. "Stop that. It could have been much worse. And he said you wouldn't ever be able to walk again if he didn't." He reached out a hand and ran it through the Japanese man's black hair.

"And my chances of walking _now_?"

"Much more likely. You might need to use a cane, though..." Lavi let his sentence drift off, afraid that Yuu would lash out. Instead, the man stayed silent, and when the Bookman looked into his face, all he saw was angered dejection and no small amount of obstinance.

"There is no way I will be more mutilated than _Moyashi_. Fuck the doctor, I won't need a fucking cane." The statement was said with such assertion that Lavi couldn't help but feel that it might be true. He smiled and ran his hand through Yuu's dark, obsidian hair. He didn't quite know how to say that he believed him. If anyone had a chance to beat the odds, it was his lover.

Leaning down, the redhead bent in to kiss Yuu. He was surprised when the other man met him halfway. Their lips played gently against each other, neither pushing nor pulling away. Each strand of Yuu's hair felt rough and neglected to Lavi's exploratory hand, and it, along with the coppery taste of blood, reminded him that it was better to let this moment lie. Desperate as he was for contact with the other man, he would not compromise Yuu's precarious health. His heart still leaped straight to his throat whenever the other man so much as coughed, making it difficult to breathe himself.

Breaking their kiss-pulling away slowly, as he was still hopeful for one more second of contact between them-Lavi let his forehead come to rest on Yuu's. He smiled, tried to show by the way he cupped his hands over Yuu's cheeks how truly worried he had been.

Fuck impartiality, he wanted to say, I would rather be right here by your side.

A swish in the background signaled another presence in the room. With grace unknown to his forty-ninth persona, Lavi sailed backwards through the air, releasing Yuu's face as he went.

"You know, gentlemen," said Captain Marsain, "you're terrible at hiding your... _liaison_. Perhaps you have not heard of putting your helmet in front of your tent?"

Lavi's tongue swished rabidly around his mouth, searching for sounds that could potentially form into coherent words.

"Apparently not."

"Er... what are you-"

"I can't visit a wounded soldier?" Asked Marsain, cutting through Lavi's speech like it was mist on a foggy morning. His words withered away until all that was left was a sprinkle of dew. Closing his mouth, Lavi managed a stiff nod and moved to better Marsain's view.

It was very difficult to speak when silence hung like an oppressive blanket. Lavi sat down in a chair near Yuu's bed, more for something to do than out of necessity. It wasn't military protocol, per se, but the captain didn't make a mention of it.

"You are a very odd Bookman," Marsain said several minutes later. Lightning hit Lavi's heart. He had tried very hard not to show his emotions-he'd known from the beginning that the captain had seen the interactions between him and Yuu, and his suspicions had turned concrete when he'd walked in on them, but he had hoped that their relationship would be perceived more as stress relief than anything else.

"I... how do you mean?" The redhead asked. He felt as if his vocal cords were going to tear out of his throat in an attempt to make sound.

Marsain only smiled. Perhaps to some, it would seem mysterious, but Lavi saw the smugness, the surety, beneath the expression. It was saying, "you know exactly what I mean." Lavi felt a sigh bubble up from his chest and let it roll forth into the world.

"Being a participant in a war changes things." He hadn't realized he had given up on his façade until after he'd spoken.

"Yes." Marsain's tone had changed. Instead of being tight, controlled, it was now freer, like a tension had been released. His back, forever straight and eternally stiff, loosened and slouched. For the first time since they'd met, Marsain seemed like a normal person. His face nearly sagged with the weight of emotion.

"You learn to trust, and you learn to love. You can't stay objective in such a subjective environment. It's impossible. You'd die." How many times had he found himself lost among the stacks of books at the back of the library, trying not to feel, pushing his thoughts away?

"You make friends that never leave you..."

"...Not even after death," Lavi finished. He looked directly into Marsain's eyes and saw true sorrow in them. The man shook his head in agreement.

"Brown and I were in basic training together. We took leave at the same time, went to a bar together... met us two gorgeous ladies-twins, if you'll believe me. Married 'em next time we were both home-shared a wedding. We were brothers. Saved my neck too many times to count." Marsain shook his head ruefully.

"Yeah..." Lavi said quietly. "You meet people who just... stay with you, and they keep coming back, even if you pretend to hate them..." He shot a quick glance at Yuu.

Yuu was not ink on paper, and nor, he realized, was he. Each of them had a background, a story, that couldn't ever be erased. There would always be people who knew them, who would carry on their memory. Generations later, it would not matter who they were or what they loved, and maybe then they could safely rest in the black lettering of ancient tomes. But even then, their depth of character could not be expressed. It did not matter if they were forgotten, so long as they were remembered by those to whom they were close.

The same applied to Marsain, to Brown, perhaps even to the whole world. Objectivity could only get an observer so far. Subjectivity, on the other hand, allowed you to see into every crevice of a person. Marsain was so much more than the captain who led this particular company. Maybe they would do something in this terrible war to bring victory to the Americans. That could be recorded without bias-as long as a second record of the opposing side existed alongside it-but it made no sense for the recorder himself to be completely emotionless. Bookmen did not need to be soulless worshipers of the impassive.

For the first time in his life, Lavi felt that he could care without repercussions.

Lavi was no longer a Bookman.

"Call me Lavi," he said to Marsain. The man's eyes snapped to his, his shoulders raising as if being called to attention by a puppeteer. Had they been silent for long? Glancing over at Yuu, who had thankfully fallen asleep, Lavi concluded that perhaps he had lost track of the time. "Not in front of the other Bookman, mind, but... when we are alone, you may call me by the name that has stuck with me the longest."

The tent flap rustled as a light breeze swept over the encampment.

"You will still refer to me as your captain as long as you are under my orders." The captain's spirit seemed to have returned.

"Yes, sir!"

Yuu shifted a bit, moaned, but did not awaken.

"But if you want to call me Jack when we are alone, I wouldn't be opposed." Marsain winked.

"I'm sorry," Lavi said, struck with an abrupt need to make amends, "for being so rude about Brown's... death."

Marsain waved a hand in dismissal, though his expression turned serious. "I think I understand now. Consider yourself... mostly forgiven." The captain smiled briefly and left the tent. Lavi heard him greet someone outside, but within moments, the man was out of earshot. Yuu shifted again, but this time he awoke with a shout. Lavi turned to look at him and saw his splinted leg dangling off the edge of the mattress.

* * *

It was a long and uneventful week. There was no military action, no sign of a continued attack from the Spanish, and no new orders from the general. The camp was unsettled and antsy from inactivity-you could only drill men on the same thing for so long before dissent steeped the ranks. Though Lavi didn't spend much time out among the soldiers in that time, he heard things from the other Bookman. The redhead spent his days translating his logs and making sure Yuu was taken care of.

The doctor came every other day to check on the condition of the dark-haired man's leg. For the first few days, things had looked grim. The young doctor had had to drain the wound of infection three days after it had been re-broken and again on his next visit, with Lavi standing vigil both times, just in case his lover got violent in protest of his treatment. But he didn't, though Lavi might have preferred if he had. Instead, the Japanese man stayed in a semi-conscious state the entire time, mumbling interesting insights into his subconscious. Occasionally he thrashed, but each time he stopped with a curse or a scream and returned to his hallucinations.

The redhead had moved all of his writing implements next to the chair he had parked by the sickbed, within easy reach of both his lover and the tools of his trade. If he wanted to admit it, he was absolutely terrified of what could happen. He couldn't sleep properly, and even though the man was only on the opposite side of the room, Lavi couldn't bring himself to leave Yuu's side. It felt as if it would be a betrayal of the man's trust to leave him, even for a moment, when he was at the weakest he had ever been. But he wouldn't be admitting anything anytime soon, so he just stayed where he was and waited for some sort of coherent sentence to signal the breaking of a fever.

It came exactly two weeks after their return to camp. Marsain was in the tent with Lavi, something that he found more and more excuses to do, as the redhead scratched sentence after sentence of newly-translated material into his logbook.

"Do you always work so hard?" The man asked. Lavi didn't answer, too busy with his work to even acknowledge the question. If he didn't meet his self-set quota of translations for the day, he would not get nearly as much sleep as he would want.

"Do you want some help?" Marsain asked a minute later. It was possible that he felt antsy, or a tad bit useless, since the death of his friend, Lavi thought. This time, he deemed it necessary to respond, so he shook his head sharply, once to each side.

"I need to meet my quota," he said tersely.

"And I could help you do so," the captain offered. He leaned forward, held a hand out into the space between them.

"You can't."

"I'm certain I can be of-"

Lavi turned with such speed that when he shoved the translation under the captain's nose, the man's eyes bugged out and he flinched backward. "Can you write this language?" He asked, scowling. How _dare_ the captain interrupt him while he was hurriedly trying to finish his logs.

"No," said Marsain. He seemed rather stupefied, sitting ramrod straight and blinking like a dog who'd just had his favorite bone snapped in half and tossed into the neighbors' yard.

"Then you can't help me," Lavi said promptly, turning back around and pressing his pen once more into the page. It scratched almost merrily as feverish words surged from its nib.

Lavi stayed in that position for several hours. Gradually, his sharp lines and regal loops faded into loose, sloppy curves of ink. Yawning, he scratched his head, stretched out his cramping hand for the umpteenth time.

It was late, his quota was unreached, he was sleepy. He sighed. He still had too much to do yet-another hundred pages or so-and he wasn't sure if he could accomplish that. Perhaps his goal had been a bit unrealistic. Perhaps he should just... take a rest...

The idea sounded heavenly, just like the thought of a pillow and bed. It wouldn't take much to walk over to his bedroll and curl up on it, let the fatigue ferry him directly to sleep. He closed his eyes, smiling. Yes, he just needed to get up. He saw himself standing and making his way over, but he wasn't sure if he made it or not before a strange noise arose him.

* * *

A noise, like a cat stuck in a barrel being rolled down a hill, seemed to puncture whatever bubble had surrounded his awareness for what seemed like an eternity and finally it looked like he could keep his eyes open longer than a few seconds.

The world didn't spin and the strange black and red dots weren't doing the familiar waltz across his vision when he looked up at the ceiling. It also didn't feel like he was freezing and suffocating from the heat at the same time anymore.

The yowling-rumbling sound struck again, and this time, the Japanese man looked over to find its source. He wasn't surprised by what he found.

The redhead had fallen asleep in his chair, a common sight during the years at the Order and once again since they had arrived. Lavi was slouched in his chair, head lolling off of the back, obviously constricting his airways and causing what had to be the strangest sounding snore in the world.

The Japanese man tried to sit up, but it seemed gravity still didn't have its priorities straight and his head hit the army standard lumpy pillow with a thud that sent a sharp needle of pain through his leg. Biting back a curse in an attempt not to wake his idiot, the Japanese man covered his mouth so only a slight moan could be heard. Maybe he was losing his touch at stealth, because the redhead stirred at the sound.

What was surprising about this situation was his lack of detail on how he had come to be there. It was all vague and blurry when he looked back to his imprisonment. He wondered how long the redhead had been waiting for him to wake up. It wouldn't surprise him if the man had been with him the entire time during his recovery. It was almost endearing, the fact that Lavi would give up sleep to make sure he was comfortable. Almost. Because that snore was really starting to get on his nerves.

"Lavi," he managed to grate out past the iron cage that his throat had become. It came out scratchy and barely resembling speech, but it got the job done. The rabbit stirred, or rather, jumped into awareness.

The man looked around blearily and Yuu wondered how much sleep the other man had managed in the past few days. No doubt he would have been working himself to the bone trying the catch up on his logs. Green eyes scanned the room, confused, until they met the Japanese man's dark ones and a sudden elated expression overtook the idiot's face.

"You're alive!" He exclaimed, nearly falling out of the chair in his enthusiasm.

"Of course I am, did you think I was dead?" Yuu asked, dumbfounded by his lover's excitement.

"No, I mean your fever broke, you're going to be okay!"

"I had a fever?" He asked as Lavi slipped a hand into his.

"Yes! You nearly _died_! And then, with your leg..." The rabbit looked away.

"What about my leg?" It still hurt, of course. He remembered the shot that had torn through it, the painful way the Spaniards had broken it, and vaguely, he remembered breaking it again. Presumably, it had gotten infected further.

Lavi's face drooped a bit.

"You almost lost it. If the infection didn't get better soon, well, it would either be lose the leg or watch you die."

"Well, yes, I realized that when you insisted on _rebreaking_ it."

"You think I wouldn't do anything to make sure you lived!" Lavi shouted, standing up. Yuu paused. That had not been the response he had been anticipating. Lavi's shoulders rose and fell with the sudden force of his breaths, and such fine trembling overtook his limbs that he seemed almost to be swaying. And there it was, hidden deep down, away from the prying eyes of those who didn't care or wouldn't understand, sealed away in case the worst truly did come to pass. There, in his eyes, if one cared enough to look and know exactly how much it meant, was the fear. The fear of losing what might be his one connection to humanity, to sanity, to everything that made life liveable. It was subtle but obvious to those who understood, who had that same fear.

It radiated through the man like electricity, making it that much more apparent that Yuu was the one who needed to apologize.

"You... came to get me."

"_Yes_."

He had expected to be left for dead, that he would have been reported missing and then killed in action. Maybe he had underestimated how much Lavi cared. Perhaps he had been exceedingly dense to have missed that fear all these months. Because there was no faking the emotion there, no one was that good of an actor.

"You... would do it again."

"_Yes_." Lavi nodded in emphasis, his voice cracking with emotion.

"Why?" He needed to know, needed to make sure...

"You _idiot_!"

The redhead stepped forward until their were very close. Small droplets of moisture clung, desperate not to fall, to Lavi's eyelashes. And then a painful stinging sensation flowed over Yuu's left cheek. His head flew sideways, his vision dulled for a moment. His face throbbed.

"You really don't realize how important you are, do you?" With a sigh, Lavi retreated back to his chair.

Yuu didn't know how to respond. All his words had drained away, leaving not a trace behind.

"You know, I cried when I thought Allen had died, way back when Tyki attempted to kill him. But when I thought you had died, I decided to devote myself to becoming a Bookman. Did you know that if you asked, I would give it all up, fake my death, and be with you for as long as you wanted me?"

No, he hadn't known that. But how exactly was he supposed to say that? So he stayed silent, hoping a better explanation would be forthcoming.

"You're the only thing in this world that makes it tolerable. Even if you never wanted to see me again, I'd probably just follow you around just to keep the world from completely destroying what remains of my sanity and so that I can be sure that I'm still human in some way. After I left, I didn't feel human for so long, so please, don't ask me why, alright?"

Looking up, Yuu saw him hanging his head, a hand drawing slowly through tangled hair and a look that seemed haunted, troubled by worries that no man should ever bear. Lavi was right, he shouldn't have to, or want to, ask. When he had decided to follow Lavi to this godforsaken island, he had told himself that he would let Lavi regain his trust, he would allow himself to reform the bonds. But he had been too blinded by overwork, exhaustion, and agitation to truly allow the man any closer.

But the redhead had proven to Yuu just how loyal he could be. He had come to his rescue, snuck into an enemy base to retrieve him. Had risked his life, just to save Yuu's. That should have been enough for him. And it was, now that he had finally had some sense slapped into him.

Reaching up, he grasped Lavi's hand.

"You're right. I was an idiot." He waited for the redhead to look at him, for any movement to happen before he finished his sentiment. He wanted the other man to know he truly meant his apology. When Lavi finally made eye contact, he concluded his statement. "I'm sorry, Lavi."

He tugged lightly at Lavi's hands, urging him to join him on the bedroll, but when he did, it was more of a melt-and-plop sort of motion. He oozed from the chair, his knees hitting the bedroll roughly. Though it was muffled, there was still a _thunk_, but Lavi's face showed no pain. Yuu raised a hand from the redhead's grip to his cheek, letting it come to rest on the rough, unshaven flesh. Lavi repeated the gesture on him, pulled him in closely, until their noses were touching.

There was nothing quite like being so close that you could share breath, feel for yourself that your lover was perfectly alive. Yuu dropped Lavi's other hand, snaked his arm around his lover's back. With chests touching, the thundering of Lavi's heart against his ribcage only reinforced the fact that he was living, breathing, feeling.

Heat met his cheeks, his ears, the back of his neck as their breath slowly began to mingle. He pulled them closer yet, and Lavi shifted, dropped his hands so that they could hold them steady in their embrace. A sudden prickling behind his eyes alerted him to how strongly he felt.

He wasn't hiding or running or chasing after some sort of nostalgia when he kissed him.

They were so close that each breath smelled strongly of Lavi, a scent that always, _always_, made his blood pump faster, made his world seem urgent. The pit of his stomach curled in on itself, tightened, let off spark after spark until he had pulled Lavi further into his embrace. The rabbit lost his balance, fell into him, so he pushed him down, worked a knee between Lavi's legs, rubbed as best he could.

Pain shot up his supporting leg-the one he'd broken-and he couldn't ignore it. His vision swam, and his arms collapsed beneath him. Lavi let out a harsh grunt as Yuu came crashing down. He tried to pull away, but Yuu was through keeping his distance. All he wanted was just to _smell_ Lavi again, hold him so tight that he could never escape. With a fair amount of strength, he managed to roll them both so that the agony dulling his mind and keeping him from his goal faded away.

And Lavi was still there, just... on top of him now. He'd forgotten how sexy the redhead was from this angle. But he looked away. Damn it, horny rabbits were supposed to be paying attention to him, not gazing off into space-and definitely not getting up!

"Where are you going?" He asked, hating himself a little for the disappointment he heard in his tone. But they had been kissing, and Lavi did deserve to be as mean as he wanted after Yuu had been such an asshole.

"The tent! We've already been found out twice, and if we're going to fuck-" lewd as always, Lavi, Yuu thought, a smile curling his lips upward, "-the tent sure as hell better be as sealed as it can get."

The redhead returned a minute or so later, having finished securing their quarters. He returned to the position he'd left.

"Are you sure you're up for this?" Lavi asked. Yuu could only nod. The second Lavi had returned, his throat tensed up in tandem with his stomach. It seemed his brain was hardwired for only a few actions right now, and talking was not among them. When Lavi's lips touched his again, he sighed, the knot in his throat loosening its desperate grip.

"Yes," he said. Lavi's hand smoothed across his cheek and back into his hair. Where it got stuck. Yuu grunted, eyes squinting up even though they were closed. He despised foreign objects getting stuck in his hair. A rumble came from deep inside his lover's chest, which was pressed so very close to his, and teeth met his bottom lip as Lavi sought to distract him. Instead of pulling away, the hand clasped the back of his scalp and drew him even closer.

Very slowly, probably to gauge his reaction, Lavi's tongue prodded at his lips. He opened his mouth, allowed their breath and tongues and spit to mingle and dance against one another. Each caress from his lover's tongue shot a thrill of something electric into his middle, and the iron-tight hold on his head only made him feel safe.

Safety was not something he had imagined he'd ever feel with Lavi again, but as he broke their kiss and pulled away, only to peck and nibble at the redhead's neck, he was positive that was the lulling, warm sensation he'd been experiencing just a moment before.

Yuu slid farther down onto the bedroll as his head was released from Lavi's grip. Their eyes met for a moment, and in that instant he could see the hesitation, the doubt about what they were doing. The redhead was still concerned for his health, and granted, he would probably be sore in the morning, but he really didn't give a shit at the moment because this needed to happen. Without giving his lover the opportunity to back away, Yuu slid his arms around the back of Lavi's neck and pulled the larger man back down so that he wouldn't have another chance to think stupid thoughts.

He kissed with force, requiring a response, as he moved his hands to Lavi's collar and then to the buttons on his shirt. This wasn't the Order, so he had to concentrate on not ripping the buttons-they would have to repair the damage themselves-while still taking as little time as possible. His fingers fumbled like a virgin's on the last one, which he could not undo. But he wanted to kiss, to _touch_...

Lavi knew how to sew, he thought, grinning against his lover's lips as he ripped off the rest of the shirt and tossed it somewhere that was not the bedroll. Maybe.

The redhead had gained many scars since the end of the war. His once-flawless stomach now held three, two running parallel like train tracks up to his chest and the third, deep and circular, located just below his ribs. He stopped kissing, let a hand run over the soft spattering of hair until it reached the circle scar.

"You were shot," he said, and let his fingers flutter over it with care.

"Yes." Lavi leaned down and started in on Yuu's neck, grazing his lips over his skin so lightly that it nearly tickled. The dark-haired man shuddered, a long shudder, from his tailbone all the way to the top of his head. It reminded him of when Lavi did that over his chest, or over his...

He needed more kissing.

A hand crept slowly under his shirt, following familiar-though faded through time and disuse-lines of muscle and bone, undoing buttons in a much more casual way than the dark-haired man had managed earlier. With a grin, Lavi met Yuu's eyes. The redhead raised his eyebrows suggestively and then lowered his head. Something warm and wet briefly met his collarbone, slowly edging downward with every hurried breath Yuu drew in. He gasped as a hand came to rest on his chest, doodling half-forgotten patterns over it.

He choked on his next incoming breath as Lavi's curious fingers traced a line over his nipple. In the next moment, he couldn't breathe at all, for that warm, wet thing had reached its goal. He felt a trace of teeth, gently working his nipple until he lost control of his voice and moaned.

Arching upward in the hope of intensifying the sensations, Yuu realized he'd missed this-the slow, luxurious pace that had been abandoned six years ago along with Lavi's forty-ninth persona. And he wanted it, so much that he surrendered himself completely to what he was feeling.

* * *

**There is a explicit material here. Due to the policy changes, we had to remove it. Again, you will be able to find it on our LJ or on our aff account. Sorry, and thank you for understanding.**

* * *

"I'm glad you're okay," Lavi finally said. The silence he'd broken and the one that followed his statement were both relaxed, undemanding. There was nothing that needed to be added to what he'd said. It was simply fact.

"Yes," Yuu said long after Lavi had fallen asleep.

It was long, long minutes later when he shifted, grabbed their discarded clothes as best he could, and dressed himself. He prodded Lavi awake after an hour or so and made him dress too. As much as he wanted the warmth and that damned stupid afterglow and all that other closeness shit, they could not be seen together like this, so he sent Lavi back to his own bedroll. From there, they both fell asleep. Yuu did not dream. Not that he could recall. But if he had dreamed, he did not remember a thing. Such bliss.

* * *

Rain is a terrible thing in the Caribbean. It just makes things wet and increases the humidity to somewhere between sopping and underwater. Rain was supposed to bring relief to the heat, give a brief respite from the hellish weather. But no, things could never work out in his favor, it seemed. The ink was running down the pages of his logbooks as Lavi struggled to find shelter from the sudden storm. It had come from out of nowhere, the clouds bursting open in an apocalyptic deluge. The small canopy of a nearby tree was his only sanctuary. Unfortunately, it was also where the other Bookman had taken cover. The redhead situated himself as far as he could from the old man without appearing to be purposefully avoiding him.

The soldiers continued to drill despite the downpour. The only sounds were the clashing of swords and the firing of rifles, but even those seemed intermittent in the silence between the two men.

"You're playing a dangerous game, Bookman." The silvery haired man didn't look at him as he spoke, just continued to stare through the pelting raindrops at the soldiers. Lavi was stunned. He knew what the man meant, but... hadn't he been more careful, had Marsain let something slip?

"I don't believe I understand your meaning," Lavi answered, not sure how to proceed, he really didn't fancy having to kill this Bookman to keep his secret.

"Of course not, but then again, we are all forced to bend the rules just a little to survive in this world. Don't you agree?" This time the man did look at him, a worn expression etched into his wrinkles. There was no harmful intent there, hidden or not. The redhead was speechless. What was this old man talking about?

"But, it would appear that times are changing. For us and for the rest of the world. There are those out there who would wish for us to disappear, and while most of our guild would accept this fate, there are some who are not as... complacent." The wizened gentleman spoke with the conviction of someone willingly facing death.

"What do you mean? What's changing?" A sudden panic had set itself into Lavi's chest. If what the old man was implying was true, then...

"I have received a letter from another Bookman. All active Bookmen are to report to the main library for... decommissioning. It would appear that those with skills such as our own have become more of a threat than an asset to certain powers. I have given you this warning because unlike me, you appear to have some reason to live, some desire to continue walking this forsaken world. I will only offer this once. Leave, disappear, I will write you both from the record as if you were mere casualties. Do not look back." The Bookman's words were strong and unwavering, like he had found some renewed meaning to his existence that he had been lacking in his previous speech. There was no misinterpreting what he meant.

"Go now, before it's too late."

It was like his mind hadn't even registered the words before Lavi was up and making his way (slowly, as to not draw attention) across the campground. He knew what needed to happen. Throwing open the tent flap, Lavi immediately began tossing every vital thing he owned into his pack. Yuu was still asleep thankfully, he'd pack both their things before waking the man and telling him the dire news.

His stack of books came crashing down. He cursed a bit too loudly as several landed on his feet. Frantically, he scrambled to move them out of his way and continued packing. His adrenaline levels were spiking with each passing moment. He needed to calm down, to think rationally. He took a few deep breaths. He felt his pulse slow slightly.

Something touched his shoulder and he yelped, turning abruptly to face whatever threat stood between his and Yuu's escape.

"Oh, Y-Yuu, you're awake!" The redhead stuttered from surprise.

"Well, of course, if you make such a racket. What's wrong?" The dark-haired man glared at him with sleep-hazed eyes. Even half-asleep it would be obvious that something was happening. Well, since he was awake, that meant they could leave faster.

"We have to leave. Now. I'll explain once we're safe. Now, help me pack." It must have been the blatant fear and anxiety in his voice, but the Japanese man merely looked at him, nodded, and began to gather his things without a sound.

The bugle call for lunch and the great exodus to the mess area disguised their departure. The only one to see them depart was the old Bookman, who simply nodded as he watched them disappear into the forest surrounding the camp.

It was slow going for two reasons: because it was still raining, and because the crutch that had been fashioned for Yuu had broken a few miles out. But they continued on, Lavi supporting the bulk of Yuu's weight, stopping only to eat and rest when Yuu was too exhausted to continue.

It took nearly a full day to reach the port. They crept into the city in the middle of the night, and they had only to wait by the dock to procure passage to the Port of Key West. It didn't take long, refugee ships left at almost constant intervals. The voyage felt like it passed in a blink of an eye to Lavi, as he sat smashed up against Yuu and an old crotchety lady with a basket in her lap. When they arrived in Port of Key West, it was the eerie dark just before dawn. As Lavi bargained for passage to the mainland, Yuu stood vigilant by his side, looking out for an unknown enemy. It felt similar to all those years ago. It was nice to be able to have someone at his back again.

Having bartered for third class on a passenger ship to New York, they settled into their small cabin below deck. For the first time in what felt like weeks, he breathed unrestrained by fear and tension. Even though the respite would only last until they reached their destination.

Yuu sat across from him with one leg tucked in and the broken one stretched out. He looked gaunt, weary with unfocused eyes. He swayed a little bit backwards. With what looked like severe self-discipline, he shook his head and blinked hard, hair swaying about him such that the very ends brushed at Lavi's chest. Then he leaned forward. When he spoke, his voice was soft, nearly gentle, but that could have been the exhaustion.

"Will you tell me what this is about?"

Lavi answered with a quick summary of what the other Bookman had told him. "I can't lose this, Yuu, not this life, nor the people I've gotten close to," he finished. During his entire speech, his eyes never once strayed from Yuu's.

"I would not expect you to want to die." Yuu spoke slowly, choosing his words with care.

"If you'd asked me a year ago, I would have-"

"I know."

"I wasn't in a-"

"I know. Me either."

Lavi blinked.

"Now stop pitying yourself and help me up into the hammock. I'm tired." As if to prove his point, Yuu yawned, which set Lavi off and which got Yuu going again. With a steeling breath, Lavi raised himself to his feet and offered a hand to his lover. The man wobbled a bit, unsteady with the rocking of the ship and the terrible annoyance of only having the use of one leg.

"Yuu," Lavi said.

"What."

"We'll be safe. I promise."

"I know." Yuu looked at Lavi for a brief moment and smiled. The corners of his mouth lifted only slightly, but he looked at peace and much more relaxed than he should have been in this situation. Lavi dared himself to lean in and kiss Yuu. The man's smile twitched upward for a moment. Then, "oi, get me in the damned hammock already."

"No need to be grumpy," Lavi muttered. He turned Yuu around and helped maneuver him into his bed.

"There's always a need to be grumpy."

"Bastard."

"Rabbit."

Lavi paused mid-step exactly three paces from his own hammock. He knew that tone, because there was that smile in it, the one Yuu used when he wasn't serious or just wanted to rile him up... He'd missed it. More than he'd realized. He made another wager with himself.

"I... love you."

"I feel the same way. Now shut up and sleep." The man was not angry in the least when he spoke. Again there was just that peace, like he'd come to terms with something that had been weighing down on him since their second meeting in that coffee shop in London.

* * *

Lenalee slammed her fist into the dough with more force than was necessary. "Komui, please, I don't have time to stop kneading. I just fed her an hour ago, so she can't be hungry, something else must be up. You're her uncle, so please take care of her." Using her free hand to sprinkle some flour onto the dough to keep it from sticking, she gave herself enough freedom to glance over at her brother. He was looking back and forth between her and the baby. "I'll make you coffee if you do." She shouldn't have had to use that as incentive.

Her brother lifted Lilian from her crib situated in the sitting room and proceeded to coo and cluck at her. Lenalee turned back to her work. The oven was still piping hot, so the cookies would be done soon. She pounded the dough again, folded it in on itself, rotated it, and hit it again.

Allen was working late today. He'd eaten the last piece of bread this morning, so she was making more. All the while, her child cried and screeched.

"Lenalee..." Komui's voice was tentative, but she still heard it over her fussing child.

"Don't worry, Komui, I'll handle it in a few moments. Just... bounce her a bit. Babies like the movement. If that doesn't work, sing her a song. Pat her back a bit."

"I _know_ how to take care of a baby, Lenalee. I have my own."

"Then what are you trying to ask me?"

Komui cleared his throat, pointed at the window. There was nothing outside.

"Komui," she said in a heated tone. She drew out the word, hit the dough with a bit too much aggression. Just a few more minutes and then she'd be free to kick him...

There was a knock at the door. "Komui?" She asked, much kinder now. She could not abandon her bread. Though he no longer had his Innocence (and thus the drain on his life), Allen still required far too much food to sustain his huge appetite. Her older brother rolled his eyes, and baby in hand, he went to answer the door.

He stopped with his hand on the knob. "Are you sure you don't want to answer this yourself?" He sounded amused.

"_Yes_," she said. The baby's crying had lessened a little, but the screaming fit would come back in moments. Lenalee had a feeling.

"Hello," Komui said to their evening callers. "It's been a long time. Lenalee's making food, but I'm sure she won't mind you coming in."

Lenalee looked over to see who it was. The dough slipped from her hands and back onto the counter. The taller of the two, red-haired, crooked smile, relaxed stance. The shorter with his long black hair and his severe expression, ramrod straight in comparison and wearing clothes that looked like one small movement would cause the weave to simply fall apart, leaving a tangled mess of thread on the ground at his feet. Both their shoes were worn nearly to the sole. From the way they looked, Lenalee did not know whether to ask them if they wanted dinner or a bath first.

Her hands fell absently onto her mound of dough. "Lavi," she said, "Yuu..." The former smiled; the latter merely nodded. He had a long stick in his hand. It was as dirty as they were but had the distinct look of being unevenly whittled down from something larger, most likely a bough from a tree. The pant of one leg bulged oddly.

"Hey, Lenalee," Lavi finally said. He walked over toward the kitchen, but Lenalee stopped him with a glare.

"Don't track your dirt through here. Wait until the bread's in the oven." Oh, right. The bread. She went back to kneading it immediately.

The baby had stopped crying. Thank God. She glanced over quickly between kneads and saw Yuu extending a (dirty! Get it away from her!) finger toward her daughter, a smile on his face.

"This is your child?"

"Yes."

"What is her name?"

"We decided on Lilian."

"That's a sweet name," interjected Lavi. Yuu nodded and then sniffed. His nose wrinkled.

"Komui, you stink," he said, but he pointed at the baby. Her brother's eyes went a little wide, and he seemed to sniff a bit too.

"You're right. How did I not notice?"

"I blame the cookies," Lavi said. "They make everything in here smell heavenly."

"Even the poo," Komui added. "Your cooking is amazing, Lenalee."

Lenalee grabbed a piece of dough from the mound and chucked it at him. "Go replace your niece's nappy, Brother!" He was out of the room posthaste.

The boys waited to speak until she'd put the dough in a pan and placed it next to the cookies in the oven. Taking a look at them, she estimated that they would need a few more minutes still. Finally she let them sit down at the kitchen table. "I'm going to cook dinner, do you mind?"

"No, not at all."

"You can bathe in a minute. I'll have Komui draw you a bath when he's finished with Lilian. But before I start cooking-don't lean on the table, I don't feel like cleaning it again-I want to know what took you so long. The war you were set to record ended _months_ ago. It was in the news."

Lavi looked at Yuu, who looked right back at him. "We had to lay low," Lavi said. "We, er, kind of deserted."

"What?"

"We did not want to die because the Bookmen are extinguishing themselves," Lavi said. Lenalee stood still, hand on the back of the chair she was going to sit in, stunned motionless.

"E-extinguishing?" She asked.

"Yes. You heard correctly, and that's what it means. The trail had to go cold before we came back here and endangered you all. Don't worry." Lavi raised a hand up in front of him. "You're safe. We wouldn't have come if we thought you were in any danger."

"Oh. Are you positive?" She was not worried for herself. She could fight. But she had another life to look after now, and if anyone ever put that life in jeopardy, they would not live to destroy the world she had created for herself.

"Do not worry," Yuu said. He placed a hand on Lavi's shoulder. "We watched the area for a few days before approaching you. We have seen no one suspicious. We were just being cautious."

Lenalee opened her mouth for a question.

"We were written out of the record," Lavi explained. "According to the Bookmen, we are dead."

"Do you need a place to stay?" Lenalee asked. Both men smiled.

Lenalee got up and checked on the cookies. They were brown at the edges, so she took them out to cool.

"You know you are always welcome here."

"We know," said Lavi. "That's why we came. But don't worry, we'll get outta your hair soon enough. Find our own place."

"I'll hold you to that. And Lavi, don't be vulgar to Lilian. You'll pollute her."

"Understood."

Lenalee didn't believe him, nor did she believe the salute he gave her. Her child would become demon spawn.

"Anyway, about that bath..." Lavi said, putting his arm down.

"Ah, yes." Lenalee ran off to draw them their bath. The bread would not be done for some time now. "What would you like for dinner?" She asked as she returned to the kitchen with towels for them.

"Soba," Yuu said.

Some things would never change. The two bickered on their way to the bath. Time healed many wounds, and the way they were acting around each other right now reminded her of back when they were at the Order. Whatever had happened, the two were happy again, companionable, and Lenalee hoped that that would stay as static as her love for Allen, her caring for her child, her hope for the world they all had in each other.

_Fin_.

* * *

A/N: Hey, guys! :D Sorry for that pesky hiatus! D8 We were super buried in schoolwork (and still are-but if you wait three weeks, we'll be back to writing again!). Anyway, here is the last part of Venia. We hope you enjoyed it, especially since you can kind of tell that there really shouldn't have been a sequel to Mea Culpa. Again, this is dedicated to Sekitx2, who recently had her birthday (tanjoubi omedeto~). And in case it wasn't clear, Bookman found out about their relationship because he heard them sexing (he was the bushes rustling). So anyway, we're alive and well, though stressed, and we hope you can be patient with us as we try to navigate the last few weeks of a torturous semester! We will probably continue with either HtSaL or BRS.


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